Malfoys, Weasleys, and Underestimated Magic
by Drollittle
Summary: Scorpius is a pianist, Albus becomes an animagus, Rose is an arithmancer, and the youngest Weasley has Down Syndrome. House elves, merpeople, music, and more!
1. And Summers Are Away

**1\. And Summers are Away**

_There comes a warning like a spy_

_A shorter breath of Day_

_A stealing that is not a stealth_

_And Summers are away -_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy! An honor this is, an honor. What can we git for yeh?" croaked Madam Bullstrode as Scorpius stepped out of the August sunlight, into her shop in Knocturn Alley. He did his best not to look at the jars of cat's eyes on the counter in front of him, aware that they seemed to be doing their best to look at him. He pulled out his mother's list.

"Good afternoon, Madame Bullstrode," he said with just the right distant politeness for their difference in age and social status. "I need a jar of murtlap essence, pint of frogspawn, porcupine quills, _bat guano_," he said with distaste, "and chocolate cherries."

"Mmm, delicious," said the burly woman as she started scooping guano into a sack. "'Ow much 'o this will yeh be needing?"

"Oh, I am not sure actually, I...I think that is enough."

"A'righty then, sir, and the box of cherries...'ere...yeh gitting these for someun?"

"My mother."

"Oh I see...thought there might be a young lady...they always like these chocolates an' roses, you remember that, if there ever is a young lady..."

Scorpius frowned.

"Not sayin' there isn' already or...not to stick my nose in, pardon, Mr. Malfoy..." she apologized.

"Murtlap essence, frogspawn, and porcupine quills?" he reminded her.

"Oh yes, o' course! Max! Gus!"

Two boys appeared at the top of a rickety staircase.

"Hello, Erlkonig, Erlkonig." Scorpius nodded to them.

"'Ello Malfoy," they responded.

"Oh yeh know my nephews? But o' course," she clapped her hands together, "yeh play Quidditch together! I hear ye're a good Seeker."

"Thank you. Maximus and Augustus are good Beaters," Scorpius said. The truth was, the 5th and 3rd year brothers were probably better as Beaters than Scorpius was as a Seeker. He kept playing mainly to please his parents; he had lost the snitch to Lily Potter or Zhi Chang consistently. Slytherin hadn't won the Quidditch cup, or the House cup, in any of Scorpius' first six years and he didn't expect to win it this year either, but he took comfort in reminding himself that Slytherin was still better than Hufflepuff.

"Good beaters, that they are. Boys, fetch down a jar of murtlap essence and a bag of porcupine quills for Mr. Malfoy."

"A'right," Maximus grunted and they went, while Madame Bullstrode filled another sack from the bucket of frogspawn.

When Max and Gus brought the things downstairs, Scorpius payed for his purchases and said goodbye. Scorpius charmed the bag with weightlessness, which was not necessary but he was still enjoying the novelty of being of age. He walked down the alley, humming a line of the piano accompaniment to a song by Schubert, to meet his father outside of Borgin and Burke's.

Father was still inside, talking, and Scorpius pushed open the door.

"...a first time for everything, eh, Mister Malfoy?" cackled the elderly Mr. Borgin. "Never seen the like in this shop. Not just a mudblood, I mean a real muggle: wife of some blood traitor, wanting to buy something pretty!"

Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows warily, "Please don't tell me you sold her something—"

"I sold her our old thunder ruby." Borgin grinned. "No harm done, no harm...as long as she doesn't get angry while she's wearing it...ah, your son is taller than when last I saw him. Young Master Scorpio, is it?"

"It's Scorpius." Scorpius sneered, dropping the pretense of respect that he had bestowed on Madame Bullstrode. Greasy old Borgin wasn't even worth that.

"Scorpius, yes, very Romanesque. Away to Hogwarts again next week? You'll be interested in this new item, this invisible book cover. Carry a book into your exams and only—"

"I don't cheat," Scorpius said coldly. "Father, are you done here?"

"Yes, I believe I am."

Borgin hurried forward. "Before you go, Misters Malfoy, I should tell you," he put a hand conspiratorially on Scorpius' arm and lowered his voice, "Marcus Flint got an import of chimaera tail-venom and unfertilized dementor spores. From the Oni himself he bought them, he says. We are meeting here at eleven o'clock on the thirtieth to stew a poison of despair, and—"

"Borgin, we don't—"

"—and as you know, the more wizards help, the easier the stewing—"

"We don't have the slightest interest in it, thank you very much."

"Well then, have a nice day, sirs."

As soon as they were away Scorpius asked, "who did he mean, 'the Oni,' that someone bought dementor spores from?"

"It's a rumor, that there is a wizard in Japan that has a strong control of dementors," explained Scorpius' father. "You know, the ministry here has been trying to get rid of them, and the rumor is that they have gathered to this 'Oni'. Marcus Flint, of course, is always after untradeable goods, wherever he can get them."

"Should we report it? And Borgin, for selling dark items to a muggle?"

"No, Scorpius. I would not advise getting involved."

"But Borgin—"

"Borgin and Burke's has been reported to the ministry dozens of times. They know how to exploit loopholes, so we would not make any difference; we would just make things unpleasant for ourselves. Listen, son," Draco pulled Scorpius aside, to a quiet corner of the alley.

"It is never wise to make enemies. Grandfather and I learned the hard way, that fighting for someone's radical ideals is dangerous. It nearly destroyed us; it was luck that gave us the chance to assume a neutral position at the very last minute in the War, and escape with our lives and freedom."

_Luck_, thought Scorpius to himself, _yes, a certain piece of luck named Harry Potter, the way everyone else tells the story._

"But Father, don't you think that it's wrong, smuggling dangerous material, and hurting muggles?"

Draco bowed his head and sighed, "I hesitate to say what is right or wrong, or even if there is a distinction...I don't trust myself to judge those things."

"Mum has always said—"

"Your mother has a simple and innocent perspective on life, and I would never take that away from her, but if I opposed someone like Marcus Flint, if you opposed someone like Marcus Flint, it would make our family a target and put her in danger. We mustn't do that. We will tread the middle ground, be friendly, and mind our own business. We can accomplish much more through flattery than through force."

_Accomplish what? Securing wealth and comforts? Still, _Scorpius considered,_ flattery does seem much more more comfortable than force, and is there anything wrong with being comfortable?_

"We Malfoys are Seekers; we shouldn't interfere with the other players."

"No, we just look for the gold..." Scorpius muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Listen. I have said this before, and I am saying it again: Don't make enemies. Don't choose sides. I don't want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father." Scorpius didn't know if he agreed, but he understood.

"Good." Draco stood tall again and adopted a light, haughty tone. "It's paradoxical really, that as long as we keep our heads down, we can keep holding our heads high; the Malfoy name still means nobility. Let's go meet with your mother."

Scorpius matched his father's stride, and the crowds parted to let them through Knockturn Alley and up to the patio outside Fortescue's ice cream parlor and café.

Astoria Malfoy stood out in a crowd. Jealous observers speculated that she was part veela, but since part human ancestry was worse than part magical ancestry, her family denied such an idea. One didn't need veela blood to be beautiful.

She smiled and winked to Draco and Scorpius when she saw the pair coming up the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, and she moved her chair closer to her sister Daphne's to make room for them.

"Scorpius looks distinguished in that deep blue; I've always said that fair-haired men look best in dark colors, don't you think?" Daphne was saying as they found chairs.

"Yes, and these two look better than any!" said Astoria, "Sit here next to me, Draco...and are those my things from Millicent Bullstrode's? Thank you, Scorpius dear."

Daphne was still rambling about fashion, "I suppose that's why you dyed your hair black, Astoria, so you can wear your summery white and cream robes and still have that dramatic contrast?"

"I suppose so," Astoria agreed absently, "Do you have any more school shopping to do, Scor?"

"No Mum, it's done."

A young house elf in a striped suit and bow tie came out and cheerfully took their orders for lunch.

Aunt Daphne leaned toward Scorpius, "Are you happy that it's your last year, or will you miss school? You have been quite the scholar..."

Scorpius shrugged. He was looking forward to being a seventh year, but the thought of finishing school hadn't quite sunk in.

"Well, I'm glad he will only be there one more year. The changes in staff have been deplorable," said Draco.

"Oh?" Asked Daphne, "you don't like Vector?"

While listening, Scorpius had been scanning the crowds of shoppers. Some kids looked so little, they were practically hidden behind their piles of schoolbooks. Then he spotted the person he had been half hoping, half fearing to see. Rose was leaning against the outside wall of Ollivander's with her nose in Eratosthenesian Calculeux in Design. Scorpius recognized the book, having bought it himself a few days ago. Next to her, her brother Hugo was spinning a small brass planetary model.

Draco answered Daphne, "That's not the problem; Septima Vector will make an excellent headmistress, first Slytherin Head in ages; no, the problems are her replacements. She was Head of House as well as Arithmancy teacher, and there were no other Slytherin teachers, so we governors had to bring in someone new. Terence Higgs."

"What does he teach?"

"He doesn't teach," snipped Astoria. "he will be the referee and flying instructor."

Daphne balked. "And Head of House? That's—"

"That's an indignity to Slytherin house, that's what that is," growled Draco.

"The board couldn't find anyone else?"

"No one."

The house elf in the bow tie brought out their food. Aunt Daphne chuckled disdainfully at the new-fashioned elf, then asked Draco, "Well, what about the Arithmancy post?"

"It's even worse. Weasley."

Scorpius focused on his sandwich.

"Bill Weasley?" Asked Daphne.

"_Hermione_ Weasley."

"What? She can't teach _and_ run the Communication and Cooperation with Magical Beings Division, _and_ edit the Journal of Wizarding Law!"

"No, she is leaving the Ministry and the Journal to go teach. The Beings Division is in the hands of a committee now—half-breeds and animals, most of them. She claims teaching is that important, but it is obvious she wants to be at Hogwarts to look after her youngest daughter."

"That _little_ girl." Astoria added, "you may have seen her—Cute. Different."

Looking over his parents' shoulders, Scorpius did see her. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Rose's younger sister Emilia were coming out of Ollivander's. The short, brown haired girl was holding a wand and grinning from ear to ear. He hoped they wouldn't look his way.

They didn't.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius woke up late on August thirty-first, to the sound of the manor clock striking six. He flung himself out of bed, into some clothes, and down the three flights of stairs.

"Scorpius, it's rude to be late to family meals," scolded Narcissa Malfoy from the end of the long rectangular table, "and you are wearing brown trousers with a black robe."

"Oh...sorry Grandmother." Scorpius took out his wand and wordlessly changed his robe to brown.

Astoria suppressed a smirk. "Sit down and eat, handsome. It's your last day of summer; do you want to go to work with me?"

Scorpius tried to look interested. _Watch Mum and Aunt Daphne photograph fashion shows for Witch Weekly? Not fun._ "Um, that sounds fun...but Paris is so hot...and I don't really like apparating all that way..."

"You'll get used to apparition sooner the more you do it," his father said while buttering a scone. "If you work in magical importing administration like me, you may have to do cross-Atlantic apparition."

"Yeah... I think I'll just stay at home today, though, and check that I have everything packed."

"I don't mind," his mother said, "I didn't really expect you to want to come. Enjoy your last day to relax, you are going to be busy at school—taking ten classes, Quidditch, and being a prefect."

"Are you sure you still want to take all those N.E.W.T.s?" asked Grandmother, "You could drop Arithmancy, it's sure to be dreadful, when taught by Hermione Weasley...but I forgot, you like a Weasley girl..."

Scorpius' father scowled fiercely. "Mother, that was more than two years ago. Scorpius broke up with her and it is over and done. Right, son?"

"Right," Scorpius lied. Actually, Rose had been the one who broke it off, but he would never admit that to his family. He suddenly felt no interest in his sausages and fried tomatoes.

"Well, I'm glad you realized that a half-blood girl isn't fitting for a Malfoy. Now what about Cristine Burke? She is just the right age, and quite pretty—"

"Cristine Burke is already dating Gerald Portobello."

"Nonsense. The Portobellos are nobodies. I will have a chat with Carolina Burke."

"Grandmother, you don't need to, really." Scorpius said, keeping his tone polite. These conversations were so habitual that Scorpius was hardly upset by them. It certainly wasn't a shock to hear his grandparents insult half-bloods and muggle borns, though when they criticized Rose specifically, he felt a knot in his stomach.

"I want the best for you, Scorpius. You're a charming young man when you try to be; I'm sure you could win over Cristine if you show her how much better you are than a Portobello. Invite her here during the Christmas holiday to show her the manor, and play her some of your music."

All Scorpius knew about Burke was that she and Portobello kept losing points for Slytherin for skipping prefect meetings together, but there was no point in arguing with Grandmother Malfoy, so he smiled and said, "I will give it a try."

The doors opened and a cart wheeled through, pushed by an elf with thick eyebrows, a square jaw and an overlarge white frilly dress shirt.

"Patto hopes the breakfast was good, Sirs and Madams?"

Narcissa turned her nose up; she rarely spoke to the paid house-elf, but Draco answered, "Breakfast was good, thank you, and I presume you took some to my father?"

"Yes, Mister Malfoy finished his scone, milk, and some eggs but wasn't wanting his sausage or fruit. Patto made sure he had all his potions, too."

Draco nodded.

"Patto will be weeding the front lawn today, washing the third floor windows, and making Mister Scorpius' favorite duck a 'lorange and pecan pudding for his last day at home. Is there anything else Sirs or Madams wants?"

"Polish the silver in my rooms." Narcissa said, still not looking at him.

"Certainly, Madame, if Patto has time in the afternoon, or tomorrow..." said Patto with a hint of smugness. He didn't have to obey her.

Dirty dishes on the cart, Patto wheeled it out, and Scorpius' parents both apparated away for work.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius stepped lightly over an old stone wall and crossed a dry stream bed, then watched a flock of tiny birds rise from some tall grass up into a hollow old apple tree as he climbed a hill. The birds only stopped in the tree for a moment before flying on into the sky and out of view. Scorpius kept walking.

He liked the Malfoy manor house, and he liked the front lawn and gardens, but the best part about home was their forty acres of fallow land behind the house. After seventeen years, he could still go walking and see things he had never noticed before. There were hills, and little valleys between the hills; trees, and little trees growing out of trees; and here and there the remains of pre-Norman muggle dwellings.

There was a long barrow near the back of the property; Scorpius knew it was a barrow because he had gone in and looked. There was no reason to be scared of it, since muggles couldn't be ghosts. Their spirits had long since moved on, and their bodies had either disintegrated, or...well, old Malfoys... Scorpius didn't think of the place as creepy or macabre, he just thought of it as a resting place, a little hill that said, "once there were people here." He rested there. Lying down flat in the grass on top of it, he wondered what it was about the afterlife that witches and wizards had the option to avoid, but muggles were universally compelled to face. Scorpius liked muggles, at least all the ones he had ever met (but all the ones he had met were musicians, so naturally he would like them).

Scorpius Malfoy had a double life, an obsession that his parents dismissed as childish and his grandparents would have disowned him for if they knew the extent of it. He studied the piano, with muggles. Mum would tell Grandfather and Grandmother that Scorpius was visiting Andromeda and his second cousin Teddy or that he was going with her to Paris, while he went to lessons and attended summer music camps. Mum was quite a clever liar, as much as people classified her as the empty-headed beauty.

Staring up into the late-summer sky, with his hands resting on his chest, Scorpius let his fingers drum out the patterns of the _Berlioz/Liszt Symphonie Fantastique for Solo Piano _that he had learned for that summer's national young musician's competition.

He thought about what he had heard from Mr. Borgin. He had let the opportunity for action pass by—eleven o'clock on the thirtieth had come and gone last night, Marcus Flint must have met with whatever accomplices he had gathered, but the world didn't seem any worse off. Maybe Father knew what he was talking about.

There was a hoot, and a sleek bird soared over the trees. Scorpius sat up and held his arm out for his black and white Great Horned Owl, who was carrying a letter from Al.

"Thanks, Antares. Go get a good day's sleep; it's Hogwarts tomorrow."

Antares flew away toward the manor, and Scorpius opened the letter.

_Scor,_

_Sorry it's taken me a week to reply, they've been keeping me overtime at work to help write reports. Yuck. I mean, the experiments are amazing, but the reports are yuck, especially since they have to be written in unique codes and invisible ink._

_Sorry you didn't make it to finals. Semi-finals sounded prestigious, though, and my hat's off to you for not cheating, since I assume that if you had used magic at all, you would have won._

_Ok, now it's been over a week. Sorry, but in my defence, things are ridiculous over here. I guess you sent Antares back to remind me, so I am finishing your letter and sending it in __**5**__..._

_Have you started reading "W^LX NYT TK^NZLAT" yet? Man, if there was any chance of being bored this year, Runes ruins it. How does a Rune ruin? I don't know, it just sounds cool and I am excited about it. __**4**__..._

_Emmie is one little continuous explosion of joy about starting at Hogwarts. I don't think she is nervous in the slightest, so I'm sure she'll be in Gryffindor and we will be happy to claim her! __**3**__..._

_You were right, I got the bighead badge, though I think it is currently hidden somewhere in James' flat. __**2**__..._

_Have you changed your mind about doing the A. project with me? See you in less than 48 hours! __**1**__..._

_-Al_

_**Go!**_

Scorpius put the letter in his pocket and set out for the house. He wanted to leave Grandmother in a good mood when he left the next day, so he clipped a branch of wild roses, used transfiguration to fix the blemishes, and arrived to lunch at noon precisely.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius spent the afternoon saying goodbye to the other part of home that he would miss: his piano. Scorpius opened the large windows of his upper east wing piano room to let in a breeze, and he played his solo, the _Symphonie Fantastique_—the dreamy first movement, bright waltzing second, pastoral third...but he didn't play them like a muggle. Setting his wand above the keyboard, he transformed the sound from the piano to take on the timbres and textures of a full orchestra—the blaring trombones and rolling timpani in the fourth movement march, and the piercing oboes and frantic strings in the unsettling fifth.

It left him sweating, and he was glad for the breeze from the windows. He lowered his head and rested his hands on the keys for a minute, then straightened again and played a series of scales, listening to the natural piano sound of his top-of-the-line Steinway grand. He had tried to transfigure a table into a piano at school, and it sort of worked, but it never stayed in tune and had a woody, boxed-in sound that simply didn't compare to his own genuine instrument.

Last he played a few of his childhood favorites: Harmonious Blacksmith, Arabesque, the French Children's Song. While he played, his parents both slipped in and sat on chairs by the wall.

"We will miss hearing you play."

Dinner, at six, was delicious but quiet. Scorpius thought he ought to compliment Patto on the cooking, that was what Rose would do, but was there any point in trying to please Rose?

o.o.o.o

The next morning promised another sunny day for the beginning of term, and Scorpius offered to take breakfast to his Grandfather's room so that he could say goodbye.

The southwest corner of the manor house was always too warm at this time of year, in spite of its stone walls and spacious rooms. Maybe it was something about how the sun hit it, or maybe that was the way old Lucius Malfoy liked it. The portraits on the walls muttered and wiped their foreheads with embroidered handkerchiefs as Scorpius carried the tray of food and potions to Grandfather's room.

He knocked on the door.

"Hello, Grandfather. May I come in?"

Scorpius waited a few moments, and when there was no answer, knocked a little louder.

"I have your breakfast, sir, are you ready for it?"

No reply.

"Grandfather?"

Nervously, Scorpius pushed open the door.

Grandfather was in the big armchair he always sat in by the fire; Scorpius could see the toes of his pointy boots on the other side of it. Scorpius brought the tray and set it on Grandfather's spindly, claw-footed side table.

Lucius was sitting quite still with his eyes closed. His face was wrinkled; pride, malice, fear, and denial etched in a permanent scowl on his aged features.

"Good morning, Grandfather," Scorpius said as loudly as he could without shouting.

"You have fried eggs, milk and apple juice, and buttered toast, and all the potions you are supposed to take..."

Still he didn't stir.

"Grandfather?"

At last Lucius twitched and grunted, "What is it, boy?"

With immense relief, Scorpius answered, "I brought your breakfast, sir, and, I will be leaving on the Hogwarts Express at eleven this morning."

Grandfather squinted at him. "Away to school. Your seventh year, is it?"

"Yes sir."

"Head Boy?"

Scorpius sighed. They had already had this conversation at least twice. "No, Grandfather, I am not head boy."

"What? Who is then?"

"Albus Potter."

"Potter! The Potters have been half-blood since 1840," he grumbled, "boy who lived indeed..." Grandfather frowned thoughtfully. "But he did live, didn't he, after Cissa said he was dead...and you lived too, Draco, and so did I..."

Grandfather blinked at the fire, and looked like he might fall asleep again.

"Do you want the tray on your lap?"

"No, no, just hand me the plate of eggs."

Scorpius watched as his Grandfather slowly ate. Then Patto poked his head around the door.

"Mister Scorpius is being wanted to say goodbye to his parents, sir, they is needing to leave for work. Patto will help Mister Malfoy finish breakfast."

o.o.o.o

Scorpius said goodbye to his parents, double checked his packing, and spent the rest of the morning beside Grandmother in her Boroque-designed sitting room, trying to read his textbooks while keeping anxious watch on the clock. Finally at ten thirty he took hold of Antares' cage in one hand and his trunk in the other, spun on his heel and apparated to platform 9 3/4.

**Notes:**

**Ready for an adventure? This will be different than anything I have written so far: longer (probably about 23 chapters, a full Hogwarts year), more intense, and with a more flawed main character than I have written in the past.**

**They say, "quotation is a substitute for wit," and I say, "perfect. I will just add a few nice quotations at the beginnings of the chapters."**

**Antares is the name of the brightest star in the Scorpius/Scorpio constellation.**

**If you are interested in some prequelage, ****An Unexpected Beginnin****g, ****A Musical Muggle Meets Magic****, and**** The Hat's Jealousie****s are short stories that happen prior to this one. They aren't necessary for understanding this story, they're just for cuteness and fun. **

**That's all. Happy Reading!**


	2. Party at the Station

**2\. Party at the station**

_There's gonna be a certain party at the station,_

_Satin and lace, I used to call funny face._

_-Mack Gordon_

* * *

The platform was beginning to fill with families. Half an hour before departure time, the space was already gathering noises of excitement, owls fluttering in their cages and people waving to each other. Scorpius stepped toward the train, intending to drop his luggage in the prefect compartment before coming out again to look for Al.

Then he heard a voice call, "Oi, Scorpius!" and turned to see his second cousin, Teddy Lupin, with Victoire, whose blonde hair looked like moonlight in the night sky next to Ted's dark blue.

"Apparated here on your own this year? Congrats on being of age." Ted said, clapping Scorpius on the back.

"Congratulations on your first anniversary last month!"

"Thanks. It's the best, being married." He gave Victoire a kiss on the forehead, "but have you still never gone through the barrier?"

"No, Mother or Father always brought me straight here by side-along apparition. It's much easier than dressing up and going through muggle London."

"Aw, but running through the brick wall is a rite of passage." Said Victoire, "You have to trust that there is a magical world behind it, and then you go to begin learning at Hogwarts!"

"Well, I guess for us the magical world has always just been the normality. Anyway, Ted...why are you here?"

"Emilia Weasley is going to Hogwarts this year, so we are all coming to the station to see her off."

"When you say, 'we all,' do you mean—"

"The Weasleys, Potters, a few other friends..."

"—squads of Aurors, the Minister of Magic, and a trail of reporters. I'd better hurry and get on the train."

"What? Are you scared of a few Weasleys?"

"A few means less than five."

"Fine, run away then. Have a good term!"

"Good to see you, Ted, and you too, Victoire."

Scorpius strode toward the closest door, catching several glimpses of red hair as he hurried past. Once aboard, he carried his things through the narrow corridor towards the front of the train.

The Hogwarts Express was still mostly empty, a compartment here having a couple of fourth years playing exploding snap and another there with a tiny first year fiddling with her pink hair ribbons. The train had its indissoluble smell: coal from the engine, oiled steel, pasty crumbs and chocolate ground into the red and brown carpet. This would be Scorpius' last start-of-year ride on the train. The thought that after this year, he might never smell that smell again struck Scorpius as impossibly strange.

He arrived in the front carriage, directly behind the engine. Unlike the cars with small compartments along the main stretch of the Express, this car was one large open compartment, with seats for twenty-four: six red, six blue, six yellow and six green. Scorpius was not the first prefect there, one boy in shabby Hogwarts robes was already sitting on a yellow seat.

"Hi, Malfoy." He said, looking up from his Transfiguration textbook.

"Dolohov, you're a prefect?" Scorpius said in surprise. Tony Dolohov had never seemed like the ambitious prefect type, but then, he didn't have much competition in Hufflepuff.

"Yeah..."

"Ok, well, welcome. How was your summer?"

"Good. I worked with my Mum in our greenhouses," Tony said. He and Scorpius had almost nothing in common except for the seldom-spoken fact that they were the only two students at Hogwarts who were children of Death Eaters. "I visited my friend Umar Grymmion."

"Yeah, I know Grymmion. Where does he live?"

"A really nice hut in a marsh..." Said Tony generously, "They have a good vegetable patch."

Scorpius managed not to laugh. "Is it his mum that's a hag, or—"

"His grandma."

"I see."

"And I visited the Potters a couple of times too," admitted Tony bashfully.

Scorpius could have rolled his eyes. Lily Potter had made a project of being friendly to Tony Dolohov, presumably because she felt sorry for him, but it really wasn't very kind because he had a pitifully obvious crush on her. Her friendliness would only make it harder for him when she eventually had to break his heart. Tony was definitely not in Lily's league—not because of his Death Eater father or his soil-stained clothes—but because he was shy, dim, and no good at magic, or Quidditch, or any of the things that Lily was good at.

A couple years ago James and Al had tricked Tony into saying aloud that he loved Lily. If she were ever going to start dating him, she would have then. Instead, she just kept being 'nice' and he kept being pitiful.

"Sounds like a great summer, Dolohov." Scorpius said, and looked out the window. The platform was even more crowded than usual. The whole Weasley extended family (which was as extended as a family could get) was gathered around their youngest, Emilia, hugging and laughing.

"How was yours?" Tony asked politely.

"Fine...I played the piano, and things."

The door opened and two more prefects hauled their trunks through, talking to each other.

"...trays of fried shrimp, cake, an' dancing." said the boy, tossing his mop of strawberry-blonde dreadlocks out of his eyes.

"Truth. If they had shrimp, cake an' dancing, then it would be a proper party." agreed the girl, with a smile that showed unusually sharp teeth.

Scorpius had guessed that the Seonnay twins would be appointed the fifth year prefects for Slytherin; Sebastian and Viola were cleverer than anyone else in their year by a fair margin. They drew attention, perhaps because they looked more alike than fraternal twins naturally should. Ignoring Tony Dolohov, they levitated their things up onto the luggage rack and greeted Scorpius.

"Ahoy, Malfoy."

"Seonnays, good morning."

"An it has been a bonnie warm morning. Did you see the festive company on the platform?" asked Viola, and Sebastian added, "We were wishing they provided refreshments."

"Yes I saw them, and as for refreshments, it looks like they are sharing a bag of Every Flavour Beans." Scorpius watched out his window as Al made a retching expression and Hugo and Roxanne laughed at him.

"Egh, I don' much regret missing _that_." Said Sebastian.

Scorpius smiled, "so, which one of you is Quidditch captain?"

"I am," said Viola, "but I thought it should ha' been you, Malfoy."

"No, I didn't want to be captain. In fact, I told Madame Hooch last May that one of you would do better."

"Did you? We're flattered. 'Twas cruel of Hooch to retire now, though...do you know who's replacing her?"

"Yes. Someone named Terence Higgs; he'll be head of House too."

"Beautiful!" laughed Viola, "he'll want Slytherin to win, sure; he'll let us get away with piracy on the pitch."

The door opened again. "Higgs had better not let you get away with anything," said Zhi Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, "or the rest of us will make sure he gets fired!"

"Too right, we will." agreed two more Ravenclaws that came in with Chang.

Sebastian nudged Viola with an elbow. "I'll bet you a galleon he's harder on us, making sure it doesn't look like he favors us."

"Bet taken." She snapped her fingers.

More prefects arrived in ones and twos until the seats were about half full. A clock in the station began to chime and Scorpius could hear the coal popping in the engine as steam built up.

Gerald Portobello and Cristine Burke rushed into the carriage, out of breath, then looked around. "Oh, I guess we aren't late..." said Portobello.

"Where are the rest?" asked Mabeuf Fortescue, of Hufflepuff.

Scorpius looked out the window again, "They're coming."

The Weasley-crowd parents were hurrying their students onto the train. Rose and Emilia were aboard and waving out a window, but Lorcan and Lysander Scamander were jumping into a door, followed by Molly. Lily was giving a last hug to her Grandmother, Al was helping Lucy, who was having trouble with her trunk, Roxanne was trying to catch her cat, and Hugo was struggling to get out of the headlock James Potter had him in.

The clock chimed 9...10...11...and the train began to whistle.

"That family is so ridiculous." whispered Burke.

"Mental," agreed Portobello, and Burke giggled as if he had said something terrifically witty.

On the platform, James finally let go of Hugo. The last one left, Hugo dashed to the train, leapt on just as it began to chug into motion, and his father Ron sent his trunk flying through the door after him.

The train was away from the station and pushing through London before the prefects they were waiting for filed into the carriage. Scorpius looked at the floor, his lungs feeling suddenly constricted when Rose carried her trunk and owl in, wearing the head girl badge; he had not been in the same room with her since June, and although they had spent most of their fifth and sixth years steering around each other with icy civility, he still wasn't used to it. The reality that they had sat in the library and talked for hours, laughed, kept each other's secrets, held hands, and once—kissed, sat like an erumpent in the middle of the compartment.

Rose stowed her things on the rack and took one of the empty Ravenclaw seats, along with her younger cousin Lucy and friend Lysander.

The last Hufflepuff seat was filled by Molly, while Hugo, Roxanne, and Lily went to Gryffindor.

A Hufflepuff girl shrieked, pointing to the last figure that entered the carriage, and Scorpius burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself, all the tension in his gut from seeing Rose again made him jumpy, and Al had made a spectacular entrance.

Al was already in his Hogwarts robes, his badge had been enlarged to double its normal size, and he was headless.

"The Head Boy, everyone." Scorpius announced, getting his own laughter under control as everyone else caught on to the joke.

"Seriously, Albus?" said Rose, shaking her head but smiling. She stood up, plucked his headless hat off, and said to her now-visible cousin, "now that you have everyone's attention, do you want to start the meeting?"

"Meeting, commence." he said, and sat down.

"Where's your luggage?" Rose asked.

Al pointed his wand at the luggage rack above him, and his trunk and ferret cage appeared. "I hid them." A few fifth years "ooh"ed, but Scorpius knew that disillusionment charms were barely the beginning of the magic Albus Potter could do.

Rose proceeded to call out the prefects' names from an alphabetical list, from Chang down to Zonko.

"Only Zivian Zonko isn't here..." Rose said, making a mark on the parchment.

"She lives in Hogsmeade; she has no reason to ride the train." Said Scorpius defensively.

"I know."

"You aren't taking points from Slytherin for a missed meeting, are you?"

"No, I'm just making a note of it. You'll inform her of this meetings' assignments, right, Scorpius?"

"Yes...Rose," he said. That was strange; he couldn't remember the last time she had called him by name.

"I'm glad all of the rest of you are here. I am looking forward to a great year at Hogwarts, and you prefects play a significant role in taking care of the school and everyone in it. This is a unique year with a new headmistress, two new teachers, and for me in particular, being my last, and the first year for my sister Emilia. I know I'm biased, but I really think she's the sweetest girl in the world and if this isn't a perfect first year for her, I will hex someone." She laughed. Hugo nodded.

Rose doesn't usually talk like that, Scorpius thought. She must be serious.

"Just kidding, of course," said Rose, "but it is important for us to look after the younger students and do everything we can to help Professor Vector and the other professors. Al, do you have any thoughts to start the year with?"

"Just this motto: Refuse fusion with un-irrefutably defused refuse. That's not to be confused with indefatigably infused refuse, with which I would also suggest refusing to fuse."

"That may be refutable." Said Rose with a straight face, and Scorpius had to look away to keep from laughing and making a fool of himself. The Hufflepuff girl that had shrieked when Al came in was looking distressed.

"It's okay Alberta," said Al, "you won't be tested on that. Rose and I are looking forward to a great year and we will do our best as head students."

"That's right. For any of you fifth years who don't know us, my name is Rose Weasley. I like Arithmancy and I spent the summer with my Uncle Bill, working in Turkey for Gringotts."

"Have you decided to be a curse-breaker?" asked Lysander.

"I don't know, but I definitely want to work with goblins."

Cristine Burke sneered, "ew, why would you want to work with goblins?"

"Because I admire their ingenuity and ability to organize. Al, do you want to introduce yourself?"

"Sure. I'm Albus Potter. I found a bright green beetle in my salad at lunch a few weeks ago, and I took it home. It was a green tiger beetle—Cicindela campestris. So if you like beetles, go for a ministry job—their cafeteria is an entomological trove."

Rose grinned. "In other words, he did an internship in the Department of Mysteries, and he likes memorizing irrelevant information."

"And my favorite color is green. So, Rose and I are in charge of prefects' assignments and meeting with the teachers. If you need to discuss anything you can come to us as well as your Head of House.

"There are several things that we need to do today," Al continued, "first, to keep things in order on the train. It's usually calm until we pass the Yorkshire Dales, then third and fourth years start going wild. You know who the hooligans are in your houses, so keep an eye on them."

He looked at Rose and she seamlessly took up where he left off. "When we arrive in Hogsmeade, Al and I are supposed to ride in the front carriage. You can ride wherever you like but I think we ought to have prefects in the last one too...maybe seventh years..."

Other seventh years looked at each other, until Scorpius said, "I'll take the back."

"Thank you Scorpius."

Rose checked her notes. "After the feast we all have assignments. Fifth years, you lead the first years in your houses to your common rooms. Sixth years, go to the library and check in with Mister and Madame Filch, they usually have a few things they need help with..."

"Cracked old squibs," muttered Gerald Portobello to only the other Slytherins, "if they can't take care of things themselves, why haven't they been fired?"

"Perhaps Vector will have them replaced." whispered Sebastian Seonnay hopefully.

"...Al and I have to stay and meet with the staff," said Rose, "but the other seventh years are responsible for seeing that the rest of the students go straight to their dormitories. Does everyone know what to do?"

All the prefects nodded. Mabeuf Fortescue asked, "who are the new teachers, then?"

"The flying instructor is someone named Higgs. I don't know anything about him." answered Al.

Scorpius spoke up, "Terence Higgs. He played Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons. He's Head of Slytherin."

"What about Arithmancy? asked Tino Allegri, a Ravenclaw.

"That will be taught by Rose's mum," said Al, and there was a stir.

A younger Gryffindor said, "Then all your family will be at Hogwarts except your dad?"

"They've found a little house in Hogsmeade," said Hugo. "Dad will probably be in and out of the school sometimes too, which is annoying, but it will be good for Emmie."

"Whatever's best for Emmie." agreed Molly Weasley.

Rose's cousins all nodded with understanding. It seemed like the whole Weasley family would go to the ends of the world for their youngest.

Fortescue pronounced, "I see! Hermione Weasley is leaving the ministry—_that's_ why she arranged the Leading Committee for Communication and Cooperation with Magical Beings."

"Yes, the committee that your uncle Enjolras is on," agreed Rose.

"And our dad," added Viola Seonnay, "which takes him farther south from our island off the Outer Hebrides than he e'er has been. He claims London is too hot and dry," she glanced out the window at the sunny sky.

"And it makes the first time Atlantic Merfolk have had a designated liaison in the Ministry," said Rose with satisfaction.

"What position is your uncle in, Fortescue?" asked Lysander.

"He's the werewolf representative. He was bitten as a little kid, during the war, and he has always advocated for rights." Answered Fortescue.

Cristine Burke shuddered, "bitten by a werewolf...that's horrible!"

Scorpius nodded, "I think I would rather just die quickly than be turned into a werewolf."

"Scor!" Al admonished, "that's a rotten thing to say. You don't mean that?"

"I don't mean anything against anyone with lycanthropy! I agree with werewolf rights and everything, I'm only saying that I personally would hate to be one."

"Even when wolfsbane potion is so available and effective?" asked Lily Potter. "There have only been one or two people bitten in Britain in the last twenty years, because the werewolves' transformations are safe with the potion."

"One," said Rose. She wore a disapproving expression but didn't say anything else. Scorpius didn't understand why they were so offended.

"Anyway, think about that a bit more, Scor," said Al. It wasn't the first time in their friendship that Al had told Scorpius to think more about something.

Fortescue and the others were watching Albus and Scorpius, perhaps expecting more of an argument, but Al turned to the Seonnays.

"A liaison to the Atlantic Merfolk, though, I find very exciting. How do you two think that will effect the wizarding world?"

Viola and Sebastian smiled and looked at each other, but the Hufflepuff girl spoke first. "It doesn't seem as important as werewolf support. I mean, werewolves are part of our community; merpeople are in their own separate world. Do they need to be part of the ministry?"

Rose replied, "Alberta, a generation ago, most werewolves lived in an isolated group. They are members of the community now, because they have become so. If we connect to the merpeople, theirs is a whole world we could open up to learn from."

Sebastian leaned forward. "Weasley is right. 'Tis not a matter of need, but of gain. There are treasures and secrets under the ocean that you have never dreamed of, Alberta Peasegood," he said with an almost predatory smile. Peasegood instinctively clutched Tony Dolohov's arm.

Suddenly, there was a roll of thunder and a rapid pounding of rain on the roof of the carriage. The sky had become dark. The ground rumbled, and the Hogwarts Express careened back and forth on shaking tracks.

**Notes:**

**Thanks to lindahoyland for beta reading!**

**I threw a lot of new characters at you in this chapter. Hopefully they aren't confusing**.


	3. Here Comes One

**Here Comes One**

_"Up and down, up and down,_  
_I will lead them up and down_  
_I am fear'd in field and town._  
_Goblin, lead them up and down._

_Here comes one."_

_-Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

As the train lurched violently from side to side, Albus stood and pulled out his wand. "We need to steady the train and find the cause of this. I will go along to—"

"Do you think we can really help?" interrupted Cristine Burke, "I mean, it's a thunderstorm!"

"We had better help, or the train is going to roll off the tracks." insisted Al. "This is not a normal storm; Rose, will you organize a search of the compartments? I will go up to help the driver...from there I think I can cast an inertiastasis charm over the whole train..."

"I will run to the back and conjure more weight there," responded Rose.

Al nodded and left. Rose turned to the rest of the prefects, who were holding on to their seats.

"Stay calm. Most of you, start in the front and make your way toward the middle. Look in every compartment for anything unusual—students trying to do magic, magical objects—and check out the windows. Tell everyone not to worry. I will be moving around, so report to Al. I'll take a couple of you from each house with me to the back." She made a quick selection: "Lysander, Hugo, Lily, Molly, Tony, Scorpius, and...Viola. Let's go."

First they helped the bewildered young lady with the trolley of sweets to stow it securely near the front of the train. "Cranberries and marshmallows, what odd weather for September!" she said, as she picked up scattered peppermint humbugs. Then they moved down the corridor as quickly as they could while holding the walls for balance and quelling the pandemonium around them.

"Everything will be fine. Please stay in your compartments!" Rose called out. "Albus Potter is helping the driver to steady the train."

Sure enough, the train slowed down and its rocking eased.

"No! We should be going faster to get out of the storm!" howled a scrawny Slytherin boy who was blocking their path.

"The train would derail if we went faster. Excuse us, please." Rose insisted.

The boy covered his ears as thunder roared. "You need to tell them to speed up!" he protested frantically.

Scorpius squeezed past Hugo and Lily so he stood in front of the boy. "Go sit down." he said simply.

"Okay, Malfoy." the boy said, and disappeared into his compartment.

Scorpius looked at Rose and shrugged. They continued to stagger toward the back. It seemed like every owl was hooting in distress and cats hissed as they toppled off seats.  
A compartment door flew open and a flurry of brown hair dashed out—it was Emilia Weasley, who threw her arms around Rose's waist; and her pet tabby cat, who nestled in between their legs. Emilia was crying.

"Emmie, Emmie, it's okay. It's just a storm," said Rose gently.

"June need her own music player back for her! It's honestly not fair!" Emilia said.

"What?" asked Rose. It was hard to hear with the rain pounding on the roof.

"My very best friend, June, it was hers she had a magical music player. We listening to music, and two big biggest boys came in there and took the player away, and then it just...outside it got thundery and shaky and dark, and it's honestly not fair."

Rose sympathized, "No, it is not fair at all. What did the boys look like?"

"One was sort of medium big, and one was really biggest, and they had noses," she made a ball around her nose with her hand, "and black and green robes on that they were not nice and made June and me really sad on this train."

Rose glared at Scorpius. "Slytherins."

"It sounds like the Erlkonig brothers, they do have big noses," Scorpius guessed, amused by Emilia's description of the Slytherin team beaters, "and they would do something like that..."

"They had better not do something like that again. Not to Emmie." growled her brother, Hugo. "Where did they go, Em?"

Emilia pointed back toward the front.

Rose looked calm, but Scorpius recognized the way she blinked one eye when she was upset. "I need to hurry to the back to help steady the train. Hugo, will you stay with Em and her new friend? Scorpius, go find the Erlkonigs and get the music player back...and tell them...just get it back. Everyone else come with me to search."

Scorpius let the others pass, then started looking for the Erlkonigs. He found them with three other Slytherin boys, toying with a brass device that was about the size of a textbook. It had a trumpet bell on one side that bounced with the sound of snare drum and cymbals, and a tiny mechanical hand that was strumming its fingertips over something that Scorpius had never seen in the possession of any other Hogwarts student: a spinning muggle CD.

_You know I said it's true_  
_I can feel the love, can you feel it too?/_  
_I can feel it oh oh_  
_I can feel it oh oh_

The song, which was too contemporary for Scorpius' musical tastes, mixed with the sound of the wind and rain.

Maximus Erlkonig looked up. "'ello, Malfoy. Look at this—you like music, righ'?"

"Yes, I do, but that's not yours."

The boys looked slightly guilty. "We borrowed it to see how it works," said one of them.

"Just having some fun." said another.

"Great fun, I'm sure, but do you know that one of those first years is a Weasley? She has a veritable army of family that you wouldn't want to come down on you...a literal army in fact, if you consider that Harry Potter is her uncle."

"Stuck-up half-mud—" Augustus Erlkonig stopped when Scorpius glared at him.

"Quiet, Gus." said his older brother. "But Malfoy, that there Weasley girl doesn' talk righ'."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. _As if Maximus Erlkonig is an authority on proper speech._

"I'll take it back to them for you," he said, holding his hand out for the player, which they promptly relinquished.

The train was moving slowly and smoothly, and even the storm outside seemed to have softened as Scorpius took the CD-spinning music player back through the corridor. The song had an instrumental break, with a trumpet solo that Scorpius had to admit was pretty good.

He found the compartment where Emilia sat with her head on Hugo's shoulder and her cat curled on her lap. Across from them was another girl, a bit taller than Emilia, showing off a large stack of CDs with titles Scorpius didn't recognize, like "The Rudimentals," "Taylor Swift," and "East India Youth," though he vaguely remembered hearing of the "Beatles" somewhere. She wore brightly colored lipstick (_since when did eleven-year-olds wear lipstick?)_ and matching jewelry.

"That's my magic CD player!" she exclaimed, reaching out for it, but Scorpius didn't give it to her. He was distracted by something else.

"Where did you get that necklace? Take it off, quickly!"

"What? No, my mum bought it for me!" The girl grasped the chain possessively. The ground trembled, lightning flashed outside and there was a corresponding spark in the pendant's gleaming stone.

Hugo stood.

"That's a thunder ruby," explained Scorpius, "that is causing the storm. Take it off!"

He tried to take it from her, but she scratched his hands and cried, "I hate Hogwarts! Why does everyone steal my things?" Thunder and lightning were now so thick around the train that Scorpius could hardly see or hear, but he managed to pry the necklace away from the girl, grasp it in his sleeve, and hold it up out of her reach.

Immediately the lightning, wind and rain stopped.

The girl seemed to realize that Scorpius was twice her size, and stopped fighting him. Crying, she eyed his prefect badge warily.

"You see? The storm has stopped. Thunder rubies cause storms when the one wearing them is angry, and you were angry about your CD player."

"Blimey, too loud, that crashing thunder!" said Emilia, while trying to soothe her cat.

"It's okay now." said Hugo. "June, I thought you said your mum is a muggle? Where did she buy something like that?"

"Borgin and Burke's, I think," said Scorpius, "but never mind that. Here is your CD player back. I will have to turn this," he looked at the ruby, "in to Professor Vector."

Rose appeared at the door, Lily and Dolohov behind her. Outside the window, the dark clouds had evaporated to wisps and the sky was once again blue.

"What happened?" Rose asked.

Hugo said, "June was wearing that necklace. Malfoy says it's a thunder ruby, that was causing the storm because she was angry."

Emilia added, "Yeah, it has been sparkly sometimes, and June honestly wants it back, because it's hers from her mum bought it."

"Oh. I'm sorry girls, you can't have it back; it's dangerous. Scorpius, are you planning to—"

"—take it to Vector after the feast." Scorpius put it in his pocket.

"Good." Rose sat down next to the girl, who was still crying. "Hi, I'm Rose Weasley, Emilia's sister. Thanks for being a friend to her. What is your name?"

The girl sniffed. "June...Nott."

"Ah, is your father Theodore Nott?" Scorpius asked. She nodded.

"My father knew him—said he hasn't heard from him in years. So, he married a muggle..."

Nott said, "He was tired of the magic world. He said people didn't like him because of something his dad did, so he left to live with muggles, but then I got the Hogwarts letter..."

"Is that all he told you?" Scorpius asked incredulously, remembering that Theodore Nott's father had been a Death Eater, nastier and older even than Scorpius' grandfather, and had died before the Dark Lord in the final battle.

"Yes," she bit her lip, "he wouldn't say what Grandpa did."

Tony Dolohov passed Scorpius with an "excuse me," and sat on the other side of Nott. "It doesn't matter what your grandfather did." he said, "Hogwarts is wonderful and people will be nice to you there."

Scorpius wondered why he would say that; no one had been nice to _Dolohov_ his first year. Little Nott and Emilia listened as Dolohov started talking about the moving portraits, the feasts, the grounds and greenhouses. Rose, Hugo and Lily joined in.  
Scorpius didn't have any more interest in crying first years, so he left to show Al the thunder ruby. He met Al in the corridor, with other prefects and students who were wondering how the storm began and ended so suddenly.

"How runs the stream? What happ'nd back there?" inquired Sebastian Seonnay.  
Scorpius answered, "Someone brought magic in an object they didn't understand. It's taken care of. I'm going up to our compartment to sit down, if you will let me through."

"Who brought it?"  
"What object?"  
"With a nod of his head, Scorpius invited Al to follow, then he pushed through the crowd and headed for the front of the train. Behind him, Al took charge.  
"Sorry, everyone. You'll probably hear more later. The train is picking up speed again, so let's not stumble around the corridor. Prefects, the meeting is finished; thanks for your help. Find seats with your friends now."  
Al caught up with Scorpius at the prefects' compartment. The only prefects there were Burke and Portobello, kissing.  
"Would you two go do that somewhere else?" Scorpius drawled. They jumped up to leave_. If Grandmother Malfoy saw the way Cristine Burke giggles, she might reconsider her matchmaking efforts_, Scorpius thought.

"So, what happened? Did you see if Emmie is alright?" asked Al.  
"Yes, Rose is with her. Rose told me once about the way she is..." Scorpius hoped he was wording the question inoffensively, "...I forgot the name of it..."

"She was born with Down Syndrome." Al explained.  
"That's right, that's what Rose said it was. She seems nice." he added for good measure.  
"She's amazing: funny, bold, sweet...she does have an attitude sometimes, but it's impossible not to love her. Molly keeps saying Emmie will be in Hufflepuff, but she is definitely a Gryffindor if you ask me."

Scorpius pulled his sleeve over his hand and brought the thunder ruby out of his pocket. He rolled the stone over, looking into its red depth.  
"Powerful." observed Al. "Who had it?"  
"A first year, Nott. Granddaughter of a Death Eater."

"But you don't think she knew what it was?"  
"I'm sure she didn't. It was her mother, a muggle, that bought it for her at Borgin and Burke's."

"What else did you hear at Borgin and Burke's?"  
Scorpius threw up his mental guard. There was nothing in the previous conversation that should have prompted that question. Al was looking over his round glasses at Scorpius.  
_We can play that game._  
Scorpius smiled and looked right into Al's green eyes. Focusing on the way Mr. Borgin had laughed when he said that he sold the ruby to a muggle, Scorpius kept his mind clear of anything about Marcus Flint, the Oni that sold dementor spores, or the poison of despair.  
"We heard that they sold a thunder ruby. That's all."  
"No it's not."  
"Okay, he did say it was to a muggle, but we didn't know it would get to a Hogwarts student."  
"You should have reported them for muggle baiting."  
"Yeah, I know, but my father didn't want to get involved. What about you, Al? Why was your summer so busy? You kept forgetting to answer my letters."  
Al seemed satisfied with Scorpius' story about Mr. Borgin. He broke eye contact.  
"Work." Al said, but he was smiling, and the color of his irises appeared to flatten in the way that meant he was hiding something.  
"Are you still writing to Katsue?"  
"Sometimes."  
Scorpius laughed. He had won. "Every day?"  
"No! It takes a long time for her owl to fly from Japan."  
_No lie there._  
"So you could send an owl...twice a week?"  
"I wrote about once a month. We were discussing Transfiguration."  
"Bluff! You wrote at least once a week and you were discussing flying off into the sunset together...I knew you were hopeless when you first came back from Japan talking about her." Scorpius teased.  
Al laughed. "It's ridiculous that you're better than me. I taught you Occlumency and Legilimency."  
"I should have a right to be better than you at _something_."  
"You're better than me at music."  
"I suppose, but no one cares about that. Besides, I only made it to semi-finals."  
"That's really good, isn't it?"  
"Sure. That's me: really good, but not quite good enough to matter."  
Albus frowned. "You would have made a magnificent head boy, sorry if you're upset about—"  
"I shouldn't be upset about it. I mean, how could they have not chosen you? I do wonder if I would have been appointed as head boy, though, if I wasn't in your year..."  
"You would, no question! It'll most likely be Hugo next year, and you're a much better student than him."  
"That's probably because I study with you."  
"Nah, give yourself credit. I would say you're better than me at History too, with all the old Malfoy stories you've learned at home." Al said, standing up to take his ferret cage down and let Ferret out. "As for the piano competition, if you were taking lessons all year instead of coming to Hogwarts, you would be world-class."  
Ferret scurried over to Scorpius and sniffed his feet, then climbed his robes and licked his fingers. "I've wondered about that, but I wouldn't trade Hogwarts for the piano." ..._and I wouldn't trade being Al's friend for being head boy,_ Scorpius thought, but it seemed too sentimental to say aloud.

Ferret pushed his snout into Scorpius' hands insistently. "Okay, little guy, I missed you too." said Scorpius, and took out his wand. "Want to play?"  
The ferret chattered excitedly, and jumped about the carriage, catching bubbles that Scorpius formed from his wand.

"Al, are you really planning to do your project this year?" Scorpius asked.

"Which one? Oh, yes, the project. As soon as possible, yes. I've already been working on it, and so has Katsue."

"You don't mind that it's dangerous?"  
"It would be less dangerous if you did it with me."  
Scorpius shook his head.  
Al said, "We can talk about it more later. How about tomorrow, downstairs?"  
"Yeah, alright. During lunch hour." Scorpius sent a stream of bubbles at Ferret.  
Al took out his Runes textbook, that he had already bookmarked extensively.  
"Read it aloud," Scorpius requested, and Al did.  
As the sun set behind Scotland's green rolling mountains, the train arrived in Hogsmeade.

o.o.o.o

"Hey, rich boy."  
"Hey, pyro." Scorpius greeted the girl that climbed into the rear carriage. She had short, straight yellow-blonde hair with streaks of green that matched her Slytherin prefect badge. As usual, Zivian Zonko smelled faintly of gunpowder.

"How was your summer?" Scorpius asked.  
"It was fine," she said, but Scorpius could tell that she was lying. She looked tired, and he didn't ask further.  
The Seonnay twins came to the edge of the carriage. "Might you give place for us here?" Viola asked.  
"Yes, come up." Scorpius answered.  
Zivian looked at them. "New prefects? I don't remember your names."  
Scorpius made introductions, though Zivian didn't seem to be paying attention. The way she kept looking at the thestral harnesses in front of the carriage made Scorpius wonder if she could see the thestrals.  
"You live in Hogsmeade, eh? Does your family run a business here?" asked Sebastian.  
"We live out on the mountains outside the village; got a pair of mining forest trolls, and we've got a few workshops, so we collect and refine materials for Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

"Can trolls find ore?" asked Viola skeptically.

"No, they just do the delving and hauling. We've always known where to find coal and sulfur, barium, copper...et cetera..."  
"After the feast, we're supposed to make sure everyone goes to their dormitories." Scorpius told Zivian.

"Huh? Oh, sure, as long as we aren't repairing moth-eaten library register notebooks for Madame Filch."

"We will need to be organized. I would hate for some troublemaker to make a fool of Slytherin house on the first night of term."  
"Okay." agreed Zivian passively.  
Sebastian joked, "perhaps you should just let them gabber and revel through the dungeons, Malfoy,—and find out what this Terence Higgs man is made of."

"Vector would blame us prefects." Scorpius retorted.  
"Truth. She is still here, isn't she..."  
"So," Scorpius suggested, "instead of trying to follow and herd them all down to the common room, I think we should count the students at our table during the feast, make sure we're the first ones through the Dungeon Door, and then count them again as they come in to the common room. What do you think?"  
"Sounds like a good plan." said Zivian.

The four Slytherins fell silent as they watched the line of carriages ahead of them roll through the grand gates of Hogwarts. Within the castle, the windows were all alight with a close, warm glow; while above, the sky was filling with cool-white distant stars. Scorpius automatically turned his gaze southward to his constellation—the scorpion. The hook-tailed Scorpius constellation was low on the horizon, as if falling into the dark trees of the treacherous forbidden forest. Scorpius looked forward again at the castle.  
In the Great Hall Scorpius was pleased to see that the Slytherin students had left his favorite seat empty for him, in the center of the long table, on the farthest side with his back to the wall and his face to the whole room. As soon as he and Zivian took their seats, the deputy headmaster, Professor Longbottom, stepped up to the front and raised a hand for quiet.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" He said sincerely, "I am thrilled to see you students once again, and may I be the first to applaud Professor Vector as our new Headmistress!" He clapped, and the students and staff joined him. Professor Vector inclined her black and emerald-hatted head appreciatively. "In a moment I will lead our first years in for the sorting. Please listen to the Hat and prepare to welcome each new member of your houses!"

People whispered when, among the line of stiff and nervous first years, they noticed Emilia Weasley unabashedly grinning and jumping up and down. She was holding on to June Nott's arm, and while Nott was blushing with embarrassment, Emilia was pointing out each of her cousins in the Great Hall. She waved and mouthed, "Hi, Roxanne! Hi, Lily! Hi,..."

Professor Longbottom smiled and began reading names. A couple of boys were sorted into Slytherin. At the staff table, Professor Vector seemed slightly disapproving of Emilia's buoyancy, and Hermione Weasley was intently putting her finger to her lips and trying to signal her daughter to calm down, but most of the staff were chuckling indulgently.  
Scorpius noticed Rose grimace when Nott was sorted into Slytherin. _There goes her sister's 'very best friend' from the train_.

Finally Professor Longbottom read aloud, "Weasley, Emilia."

She danced up to the old stool, and sat. The hat was on her head for ten seconds...twenty...a minute. Sometimes it shifted. Emilia closed her eyes and tipped her head as if in thought.

Scorpius remembered the night he had put on the Hat; it had taken a long time with him, too, telling him he would do well in Ravenclaw, but he had only wanted to be in Slytherin. As long as that discussion had seemed, the Hat was taking even longer with Emilia Weasley.

"It's gonna say she doesn' belong at Hogwarts." Maximus Erlkonig whispered loudly.

At the next table Rose heard him and shook her head. She was blinking furiously, trying to look hopeful as she watched her sister.

Under the silent hat, Emilia smiled, and nodded. Scorpius may have imagined it, but he thought he saw the hat smile too.

Then, he certainly didn't imagine it, the hat laughed. It emitted a merry, gusty chortle that filled the hall.

Then it opened up, and announced:"SLYTHERIN!"

Scorpius leaned forward in surprise. Rose covered her mouth with a hand, and half the Gryffindor table seemed ready to take up arms. Professor Hermione Weasley had her jaw clenched in shock, and Hagrid was scratching his grey bushy head. Longbottom held the hat and stared at it as if it was a three-headed mandrake, but Emilia took no notice. She sprang up and hugged Professor Longbottom, then waved to her mother. Professor Weasley seemed determined not to let her shock ruin the moment for Emilia, so she smiled and clapped. Others joined in. Emilia hopped down from the platform and sat by Nott.

"She is pretty cute..." admitted Cristine Burke.

"Aye, she's got flair." said Viola Seonnay. "I'll claim her for Slytherin, whether she's as good on a broom as her cousins or nay."

Scorpius didn't take in a word of Vector's speech, other than the introduction of Terence Higgs, an unremarkable beady-eyed wizard. He barely noticed the appearance of roasted hams, fruit salad, boiled dill potatoes, baked apples, and dozens of other delicious things. Instead Scorpius watched the raging conversations taking place along the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables. He remembered Al saying that his aunts and uncles had gone into hysterics when Uncle Bill's second daughter was sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. What would they think of this? Scorpius drank some pumpkin juice absently. He hoped that if there was an uproar, Slytherin house wouldn't have to take too much insult. Professor Vector, and Scorpius himself, had worked long and hard to dispel the stereotype of Slytherin as dark and slimy.

While everyone was feasting, Scorpius noticed Professor Weasley discretely slip away from the staff table and down behind the Gryffindor table toward the doors to the entrance hall. As she passed, Rose, Hugo, Al and Lily stood and followed her.

Scorpius watched Emilia. She was sharing chips with Nott and the other first years, happy with her cheeks full of food, nodding at the things her new friends were saying.

"Little Weasley must've had to beg the hat not to put her in Hufflepuff. That's what took so long," laughed Augustus Erlkonig to his third year friends.

Emilia looked up. "No, Hufflepuff is a good house too. My Mummy and Daddy always said to me they would be proud of me in Hufflepuff or any house here. I am the special student of any house lucky to have me!"

She was answered by a splattering of sniggers.

"You must've been adopted. Isn't your dad famous for being tall? And long-nosed? And your mum...she's supposed to be a genius. Did they decide to dress up one of their garden gnomes?"

"Grandpa Weasley likes garden gnomes. He likes they're funny little potato people." Emilia said, still unaware that she was being teased.  
"Hey, Erlkonig," answered back one of the first year girls, a thin girl with poker-straight black hair, "I don't know if Hermione Weasley is really a genius, but you aren't, so maybe you should focus on eating. Stick to your strengths."

Augustus scowled. "Yeh be quiet, Scrivenshaft!"  
She didn't answer again, just primly poured pumpkin juice for herself and Emilia.  
Then Scorpius noticed Al standing near the door. Al caught Scorpius' eye and beckoned for him to come out. Ducking around the tables, Scorpius followed.  
There was an agitated discussion going on in the entrance hall. Rose stood with her arms crossed, and Hugo was fraying the sleeve of his robe.  
"The sorting hat has never re-sorted anyone in the history of Hogwarts." said Rose's mother, brushing from her eyes a wisp of hair that had strayed from the twist she had put it in.  
"It can't hurt to ask, can it?" implored Lily.  
Al pulled Scorpius right up to them. "Aunt Hermione, this is Scorpius. He controls what goes on in Slytherin, so—"  
"What? I don't—" Scorpius protested in alarm.  
"You do!" Al asserted. "Most Slytherins are from pureblood families who have bowed to Malfoys for generations. You're cleverer and better at wand-play than any of them, and they know it."  
Scorpius couldn't argue with those statements, but he didn't want to be held responsible for all of Slytherin.  
"Scorpius Malfoy," Professor Weasley surveyed him critically. "Albus has assured me that you are responsible and trustworthy."  
_Albus did...meaning that if Rose had said anything about me, it wasn't anything so assuring._  
"I don't know, I...it's nice to meet you, Professor." Scorpius fell back on protocol, and held out his hand to her.  
Her handshake was firm, and her hand was rougher than Scorpius' own mother's, but nonetheless felt surprisingly like a normal hand. There was apparently nothing superhuman about the witch who, at about Scorpius' current age, had helped Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord, and then had revolutionized the Ministry of Magic. With the exception of Lily, Hermione Weasley was the shortest person present  
She said, "Emilia's sorting is...surprising, to say the least...I will be discussing it with Professor Vector, and I would like to consult the hat itself...but—"  
"You can consult the hat?" asked Hugo.  
"Yes. It will talk to you, if you put it on."

"I never knew that."  
"It didn't have to say anything to you, Hugo," Al laughed. "It shouted 'Gryffindor' as soon as you walked into the castle!"  
"Anyway," Professor Weasley said, "if her sorting into Slytherin stands, we will expect some help from you, Mr. Malfoy."  
"She shouldn't be in Slytherin!" said Lily stubbornly. "Emmie is not cunning, and not pureblood or ambitious; it's a mistake."  
Al agreed with her, "From what I understand about Salazar Slytherin, he would not have chosen Em. The Hat is supposed to sort by whom the founders would have chosen. The way the hat laughed, makes me think it's not doing what it was enchanted to do."  
It was Hugo that first offered an explanation for the hat's choice. "You know, Emmie does have strong magic, which Slytherin valued. She's done a lot of accidental magic, and you know the way animals and people respond to her when she gets emotional..."  
"It seems like more of a Gryffindor trait." said Lily.  
"Maybe," said Hugo, "but she also has a certain talent for getting what she wants from people..."  
"By being adorable, you mean?" challenged Rose.  
"Yes, but even so...and on top of that, you have to admit she is ambitious. You've heard her talk about being the next famous singing sensation on wizarding radio. I still want Emmie in Gryffindor, I'm just saying, the Hat could have found reasons to put her in Slytherin."  
"If you look at it like that, I think the Hat could put anyone in any house." said Professor Weasley.  
"It wanted to put me in Slytherin. Maybe I should have let it, then I could be there for Emmie." said Al.  
"As it is, we will need to make sure someone else takes responsibility for her. Being here as a teacher is as much as I can do without being intrusive; she hates being treated like a baby. Mr. Malfoy, I can't ask you to help Emmie find classes or watch her in the girls' dormitory, but it will be up to you to make sure she isn't bullied in the Slytherin common room or by other Slytherins around the school. You have Arithmancy with me twice a week; tell me how she is doing after each class. If there is ever an immediate need, I have Professor Vector's old office."  
Scorpius nodded hesitantly.  
"I am confident that you will be proactive and use all your influence. I trust that you know the best ways to communicate with the students in your house. Remember, Emmie is extremely important to us." Hermione Weasley gave him an encouraging smile, but he got the impression that she wasn't as confident in him as she sounded.  
"Well, everyone, there is a feast going on," she said, and swept away to the doors.  
Rose looked at Scorpius for a moment, but said nothing.

o.o.o.o

"Burke, I need your help with something."  
Back at the Slytherin table, Gerald Portobello put an arm around his girlfriend possessively.  
"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked. She tucked her straight chocolatey brown hair behind her ear and raised her neat, thin eyebrows at him questioningly.  
"You said you think Emilia Weasley is cute. Will you help her tonight, to get to the common room and her dormitory?"  
Burke nodded. "Yeah, I will."  
"Thanks. Try to get there quickly; I'm going to keep everyone else in the common room after you've gone up and talk to them for a minute."  
Scorpius supposed that Burke would take good care of Emilia. She had the right sort of gentleness for that type of job, unlike Quidditch captain Viola Seonnay or sulfuric Zivian Zonko.  
Emilia happily ran all the way down to the hidden Slytherin Dungeon Door. She pointed at every portrait, statue and suit of armor they passed, and when the stone wall opened into the grand Slytherin common room, she grabbed Burke's arm.  
"Cristine! Oh, Cristine, this is honestly the most magical day of my life. Look at the shining green lights, and the windows so pretty—" she pulled Burke down the wide entry staircase and over to the windows.  
"Ooh...it's under the water..."  
"It's the same lake you went across in boats," explained Burke. "Sometimes you'll see yucky little grindylows, or the squid. Let's go to the girls' side now, and you can choose your bed."  
People started following them through the wall.  
"Everyone stay in the common room!" Scorpius announced, "I need to talk to you together. Seonnays! Stand by the dormitory doors and keep everyone here, will you? Zivian, do you mind counting? We have 226."  
Scorpius paced, planning what he was about to do and say. The Slytherin students might look up to him like Al said, but there would be two hundred twenty-three of them, and one of him.  
"How many?" He asked Zivian after a few minutes.  
"Still missing two."  
"Did you count Weasley and Burke?"  
"No."  
"They're all here then." Scorpius swallowed, clenched his wand, and climbed up onto the staircase at the entrance. "Sonorus," he whispered, and pointing his wand at his throat for amplification, gave the wand a slight 5 degree clockwise turn.  
"Slytherins! Listen. I hope the summer was good for all of you. This is going to be a great year. First years, we are glad to have you. As you noticed, we have a first year named Emilia Weasley. Erlkonigs—Maximus and Augustus—you know the girl I am talking about." Scorpius picked out the two brothers in the group.  
They guffawed. "Yeah, why is she in Slytherin?" Maximus jeered.  
"Why don't the two of you come up here, and I'll explain it to you."  
They looked a little uneasy, but mounted the steps.  
"In case anyone didn't hear, the Erlkonigs had some uncomplimentary things to say about Weasley during the feast, and they also bullied her on the train." Scorpius took a long breath. This was hard, but he didn't see how else to make people like the Erlkonigs understand that he was serious.  
_limax flavus._  
As soon as Scorpius cast the jinx nonverbally, the brothers started to turn pale, and held their stomachs. Then Augustus coughed up a long yellow slug.

"Ewww!" students shrieked. A few laughed. Maximus retched out an even bigger slug.  
_finite incantatem_. Scorpius lifted the jinx  
"Quiet, please! You need to know some things about Emilia Weasley. She has a special...quality that she was born with. I've heard that it gives her very powerful magic. She may seem small or simple, but don't underestimate her! She ought to be respected and treated well, for several reasons. First, on principle, if you care about principle... Second, I don't know what kind of accidental magic she might do if she gets upset. Third, she is the youngest of a protective family; the Weasleys and Potters have a lot of influence and publicity, and you could make or break your own future career by getting in or out of favor with them. We could all be affected, since we will all be known as Slytherin graduates. If Emilia Weasley is happy in Slytherin, it will be a major benefit to our reputation. Finally, you will all be friendly and helpful to her, because if you aren't, I might not be as nice to you as I was to the Erlkonigs just now."  
glared at Scorpius as he spit out another small slug, his third or fourth. That jinx was sticky.  
"By the way, you two...Nott, and Scrivenshaft," the first years flinched. "You were nice to her. Five points each, toward the House Cup. Everyone go to bed, now. Good night."  
They hurried away. Scorpius returned his voice to normal and stepped down from the stairs slowly. His pulse was racing; he wasn't sure if that had been a good idea, but it was the best he could come up with.  
Zivian Zonko shot him a smile as she exited through the door that led to a long hallway of dormitories. Scorpius crossed the cavernous common room and sat in one of the high-backed green armchairs by the fire. He took the thunder ruby out of his pocket and gazed at it again in the watery greenish light; in all the ado about Emilia, he had forgotten to give it to Professor Vector. He wondered if there was any useful purpose for the tempestuous necklace. There must be, if someone had made it.  
The Dungeon Door opened. Scorpius stood up, saw Mr. Higgs, and walked forward to greet him. Mr. Higgs only made it two steps before slipping and bouncing the rest of the way down.  
"What is all this slime?" He asked in a naturally loud, robust voice.  
"I think those are slugs, sir." said Scorpius innocently.  
"Egh-blurg-ey-bothering... Why the blistering bludgers are there slugs on the stairs?"  
Scorpius shrugged. "I'm not sure...I'm glad to meet you, Mister Higgs. My name is Scorpius Malfoy."  
When Mr. Higgs had straightened himself out, he shook Scorpius' hand.  
"Oh yes, Draco Malfoy's son. You look just like him. I believe he put a good word in for me when I applied for this job."  
Scorpius nodded. _That's what he would have led you to believe._  
Higgs perked up, "And you're our Seeker, too, eh! Excellent. Well, I came down here to tell the students to go to sleep..."

"They went." Scorpius told him.  
"And you..." Mr. Higgs hesitated.  
Scorpius raised his eyebrows, daring the man to send him to bed.  
"...it was good to meet you. I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch soon, eh?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Good night then."  
"Good night, Mr. Higgs."  
Those were the last words of the first day of Scorpius' last year at Hogwarts. It would be a year of many lasts, and many firsts.

**Notes:  
Did you expect Emilia to be sorted into Slytherin? She is a fun and intimidating character to write because I sincerely hope that any readers with Down Syndrome or with loved ones with Down Syndrome will like the way I write her. My little sister, Esther, has Down Syndrome, and she is my main source for the style of Emmie's dialogue, but Emmie is ****_not_**** directly based on Esther (Esther would be in Gryffindor!). Emmie is based on a combination of ten or so people with Down Syndrome that I have known, as well as some imagination.  
I hope you are enjoying the story!  
Thanks to lindahoyland for beta reading.**


	4. Something Deeply Hidden

**4\. Something Deeply Hidden**

_"Something deeply hidden had to be behind things."_

_-Albert Einstein_

* * *

A crowd of students crossed the Entrance Hall from breakfast towards their first classes. Looking over their heads, Scorpius glimpsed Professor Vector in her usual black and green, speaking to both of Rose's parents. They were watching Emilia climb the marble staircase with her first year friends, and before she turned the corner she looked back at them and waved. They watched her go, and then scanned the other students in the large stone hall. Hermione Weasley leaned close to her tall husband, Ron, and said something. Ron frowned directly at Scorpius. Scorpius looked away.

Vector could be heard as Scorpius passed them, saying, "The Hat is in my office, of course. If you would like to follow me upstairs..."

Outside the Transfiguration classroom, Zivian Zonko walked over to Scorpius and nudged him with her elbow. "Your start-of-term speech in the common room was impressive, rich boy. It wasn't like you."

"What do you mean?"

"Kind of brutal...which isn't your usual style. But I understand, you were under pressure. Did Little Weasley's family talk to you outside of the feast last night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, your limux flavus jinx was effective...and funny; the Erlkonigs looked like overgrown flobberworms with the flu. You probably want to watch your back, though. I heard them talking at breakfast about what they'd like to do to you."

"They can try to do whatever they'd like to me, as long as they leave Weasley alone."

Zivian laughed. Then she stopped; a group of Ravenclaws, including Rose, had come into the corridor.

"Let's go and sit down," Zivian said to Scorpius. "Do we have Transfiguration with Ravenclaw?"

"Yes."

"Blast. Phrome always favors his own students. Let's sit in the back."

"Okay." Scorpius reluctantly took a seat at the back of the classroom among other Slytherin seventh years, while Rose sat in the front. It was almost the exact same places they had sat in Transfiguration during their third year, when Scorpius had first noticed the way Rose cocked her head to one side when she raised her hand to answer a question, and the way she usually sat with her somewhat large feet crossed under her chair.

o.o.o.o

After cleaning up from Herbology, Scorpius hurried to eat some squash soup and a cheese sandwich, and noticed that Al merely ran in to the great hall, stuffed an apple and a roll in his pocket, and ran out again with a piece of chicken in his mouth. Al was always in a hurry to get to work.

On the marble staircase, a commotion interrupted Scorpius. Emilia and Nott each had a foot stuck in the trick stair, and Scrivenshaft was unsuccessfully trying to pull them out, while a couple of second year Gryffindors laughed.

Scorpius pointed at the onlookers. "Ten points from Gryffindor. It was you stuck there last year."

One of them stuck out his tongue, and they ran down to the hall to lunch. Then Scorpius offered a hand to Emilia.

"Here Miss Weasley. Hold my hand, stand on the higher step—steady—and give your foot a good pull."

"I honestly can't pull it out, I don't know why the stairs just sink in so much!"

"Try again."

She tugged, and sighed in frustration.

Roxanne Weasley and Viola Seonnay appeared from a corridor at the top of the stairs. The captains of rival Quidditch teams, it sounded as if they were arguing about scheduling the pitch for the upcoming Saturday, but then they noticed the first years in the trick step and both hurried down to help.

"Here we go, dearie!" Roxanne came up behind Emilia, wrapped both arms under her armpits and heaved her out of the step. Safe on solid ground, Emilia hugged her cousin while Viola lifted Nott out too.

Scrivenshaft complained, "It's the seventh step up and the thirteenth step down...do you seriously have to count every time you take the stairs?"

"Nay," answered Viola, "you'll come to know by instinct."

Scorpius added, "I look at the marble columns at the side. The column that has the swirl that looks like a top hat is next to the trick step."

"I've noticed that there is a big chip out of the edge of the stair two above it," said Roxanne. "So you step on the chipped stair, and then the next one, and then jump. Or, if you start on the landing and take them all two at a time, you'll miss the trap."

Scorpius nodded, "Right. See you later—"

"Wait, Malfoy," interrupted Viola, "can you come out first thing Saturday morning to help choose our new Chaser?"

"Yes. What time?"

"Starting at seven," said Viola.

"—and ending before two," added Roxanne stubbornly.

Viola shook her strawberry blonde dreadlocks and showed her sharp teeth. "We can't set an ending time; we don't ken how long t'will take to find the right player!"

Nott and Scrivenshaft edged away and beckoned for Emilia, but she was still attached with her little arm around Roxanne.

Roxanne laughed humorlessly. "Do you really think you'll need all day? Yours is not the only team here."

"Gryffindor's team is still complete from last year, an' you can bide delay until November. It's Slytherin versus Hufflepuff first in October, so we have priority."

"Yeah, Slytherin!" Emilia piped. She made a snake motion with her arm, wiggled it up and pinched Roxanne's nose with her fingers. "Sssssss!"

Scorpius and Viola grinned.

"Emmie!" Roxanne laughed. "Okay...how about...my team takes the pitch early in the morning. We can finish at eight thirty. Then it's yours for as long as you need it."

"Eight thirty." Viola agreed, and the five girls headed to lunch while Scorpius ran upstairs.

He stopped in a corridor, and when it was empty, Scorpius entered the girls' lavatory and closed the door quickly.

"Ooooh, it's Malfoy," moaned the ghost that floated out of a stall.

"Hello Myrtle," Scorpius droned sympathetically, "terrible summer, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was dreadful."

"Beastly...but it is a consolation to see you."

She smiled sadly.

Scorpius found the sink he was looking for, and ran his fingers over the cold engraved snake on the tap.

"_Sschaiahasieth_," he muttered.

Nothing happened.

"Potter says it with more S." Prompted Myrtle.

Scorpius tried again, "_Ssschaiahasssieth_," still with no result.

Once more, he hissed, "_Ssschaighahassieth_." This time, the tap glowed and spun. The sink drew back with a rumble of stone on stone, revealing a dark chute and three hooks attached to the inner side. On two of the hooks hung old Cleansweep brooms. Scorpius took one and descended astride it into the tunnel.

There were occasional sconces burning white in the large passage, lighting the twists and turns. Scorpius saw them as blurs as he sped downward. He rode his broom past connecting pipe openings that echoed with dripping noises, lower and lower, and he began to hear voices ringing below.

The sound gradually became clearer, a choir of singers whose pure Latin vowels blended together like light and gold. The music was full of close intervals, major seconds, stretched out with a sense of glory in dissonance.

Scorpius had begun to make out words as the tunnel leveled out and he flew into a stone entryway.

"Lux, Calida gravisque..."

He recognized the song as Whitacre's "Lux Arumque." A single soprano voice floated above the choir, as Scorpius landed and walked along the clean, torch-lit entry hall and through a pair of large open doors.

Flag stone floors, limestone troughs of water, rows of serpentine patterned pillars, and walls hung with enough torches to light every corner, extended beyond the doors to the end of a grand chamber. High above there was a stone ceiling, and at the end sat a gigantic green limestone statue of Salazar Slytherin sitting with his hands on his knees.

Between the statue's robe-draped feet, a large chest with drawers and a sousaphone-sized bell attachment amplified the choral music from a CD that spun on top of the chest.

"...pura velut aurum..." the echoing recorded voices sang.

Between Slytherin's hands, a large wooden sign proclaimed boldly, 'Albus Severus Potter's Chamber of Discoveries'.

Under that title, the words 'and Rose Marian Weasley's,' were added in neat print. Below that, 'and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy's,' was squeezed in.

Various desks and tables stacked with drawings on parchment, empty cauldrons and magical devices sat between the pillars, and in the center of the room stood Al. He had both arms out and his long elder-wood and phoenix feather wand raised. He was slowly turning in circles, pulling what looked like gauzy grey vapor out of the ceiling and walls themselves. The strands floated in toward each other, meeting in a cottony mass that spun above Al's head.

"What are you doing?" Scorpius asked, "making a rain cloud?"

"No," said Al, "though that might be a good way to mop. I'm cleaning out the cobwebs."

"Oh." Scorpius replied with distaste. "What can I help with?"

"There are some new leaks—see those puddles?"

"Yeah. I'll plumb them in." Scorpius climbed on his broom again and flew up to the ceiling where drips were falling. He cast the channeling charm that Rose had found in a gardening book, and formed a path from the source of the leak, across the ceiling and in to another channel that ran down to a stone trough. While working, he talked to Al.

"We have Defence and Runes together this afternoon. Professor Fenwick will start with a safety review, as always," Scorpius predicted, "but you never know what Professor Babbling will talk about."

"I hope she gets straight to Runic enchanting! Four years studying the meanings of the symbols and practicing translation...it's about time to start using the magic in them."

"Of course, you and Rose have already been trying it. Did you inscribe anything during the summer?" Scorpius said as he fixed the last leak from the ceiling and flew down.

Rose answered unexpectedly from the entryway, "No, I was in Turkey, and Al was too busy playing with stuffed owls."

Scorpius said, "Hello, Rose," but gave Al a look that said, _you didn't tell me she was coming._

She walked up the chamber with the air of someone meeting a hippogriff. "Scorpius," she said, facing him directly.

"Yeah?"

"Things have been awkward, since we stopped dating, which is at least half my fault, I know..."

Scorpius just stared at her, not sure what she wanted him to say.

Rose continued, "...but I'm hoping we can put past feelings aside and treat each other like normal people this year. I know Al is tired of trying to distribute his time between us, and with Emmie in Slytherin, I want to be able to communicate with you. Do you agree?"

Scorpius nodded. "That's fine with me...so we pretend it never happened?"

"It happened. We were really young. It ended, now we're older and smarter, and can deal with each other reasonably, I believe. So Al, will you be ready to become an animagus after taking the N.E.W.T.s?" She moved on to another topic as easily as she moved her long thick braid behind her shoulder.

Scorpius didn't know whether to celebrate or dread this idea of a "normal" relationship with Rose. On one hand, it stung when she talked about their past romance as if it had been an inconsequential childhood mistake, and Scorpius wasn't as prepared to abandon his feelings for her as she seemed to expect. On the other hand, if acting like he didn't care meant spending more time with the wittiest, wisest, and possibly prettiest girl he knew, he was willing to put on the act. It would be nicer than constantly avoiding her.

Al smiled at Rose. "After the exams? No way! I've got the theory and the anatomy memorized, having 'played with stuffed owls' all summer, as you put it. I'm ready now."

"That's great," she answered, "but you _will_ wait until you can do it legally, right? You need to achieve an 'Outstanding' N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration, and then work with an experienced animagus."

"The Japanese ministry doesn't require all that. Katsue is doing it now, so I am too." Albus lowered his cottony cloud of cobwebs onto a table, and started putting it into jars to use in potions later.

"How long do you plan to keep it secret? Don't you think people will find out?" Scorpius asked.

"After I have my N.E.W.T.s I'll tell them. Imagine my parents' faces when I fly in with a letter from myself..." Al laughed, "the ministry will charge me a fine for late registry, but I saved up enough galleons for it during the summer."

"You're crazy, Albus, but at least you plan ahead." Rose said. "If I were you I would want to wait a year, and have help from an animagus like Minerva McGonagall or Rolf Scamander."

"That's where you two come in," said Al. "The most dangerous part isn't transforming into the animal; it's keeping your sense of human self strongly enough to transform back. If two or more wizards transform together, they help each other."

"How?" Scorpius asked.

"Colligation of combined consciousnesses," Al recited casually.

Rose explained, "The magic behind it is complex, but basically if multiple witches or wizards transform together, they're less likely to forget themselves and turn wild. That's why werewolves used to gather in a tight community; they could transform all together and retain a little bit of humanity, at least enough not to go on rampage and wake up the next day in a forest miles away. There have been under-skilled animagi who transformed alone and couldn't transform back until their friends found them over a decade later."

"Pettigrew, yeah..." Scorpius remembered, "but sorry, Al. I'm not doing it. I don't want to be an animagus."

"Why on earth not? I think it seems so fun, to fly on my own wings..."

"It'll be grand for you, I'm sure, Al, but personally it makes me queasy to think of being anything but human."

Rose sniffed with disapproval and turned to examine one of Al's magical devices, a glass cylinder holding swirling clouds and tiny glowing models of the sun and moon that slowly rose and sunk over rocky model terrain.

"Rose?" Scorpius asked tentatively. He knew that Rose would speak forthrightly on the most sensitive topics, but only if she deemed it important enough, and after thoroughly considering how to say what she wanted to say. When she turned away like that, it generally meant she had something on her mind.

She spoke to Al, "Oh... I don't want to become an animagus this year either. Even when I can legally, I probably won't; an otter isn't as useful as an owl."

Al voiced what she had probably been thinking. "Why does being part human bother you, Scor? What you said on the train about werewolves—"

"We're talking about animagi."

"—You said you would rather die than be a werewolf. Why?"

"Al, we were talking about animagi." Scorpius reiterated.

Al and Rose just looked at him, patiently waiting for an answer. The CD on the player came to its ending and stopped, leaving the chamber silent.

"I don't know. It just seems horrible, changing into a dark creature every month."

"What makes it seem so horrible?" asked Al socratically.

"I've heard they get really ill—not just on the night of the full moon, but for a whole week around that time, and that the change hurts a lot."

"Potions help," said Rose.

"I would still prefer it over death. Is there any other reason?" asked Al.

Scorpius sighed. "I know you want me to admit that I have a subconscious bias...or would hate to be looked down on by witches and wizards like my grandparents. Maybe that's true. I'm not intolerant, though; I have more muggle friends than either of you. I know that werewolves shouldn't be looked down on."

"Okay, Scor. Just making sure you thought that one through. Catch!" said Al, and chucked a finished jar of cobwebs at Scorpius, who caught it and ran it over to a cabinet by the wall.

"Keep them coming." Scorpius said, and caught several more jars. He remembered that Quidditch season was starting and he hadn't practiced with a snitch all summer.

Rose got on her broom, and traced an invisible line from the glass model-weather cylinder up toward the ceiling. "Aha, here's the broken point. Have either of you looked at this yet?"

"No," Scorpius answered, "we just—" he stopped with a gasp, as a sudden motion on a nearby table caught his eye.

"What?" Rose started.

"Petrificus totalus!" Scorpius shot, and then breathed again.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look at the motionless thing on the table. It was only a common knut-sized spider, but spiders of any size reminded him of the most horrifying moment of his life—the dark forest, his arm pierced and cold with spreading venom, while James Potter, Albus, and Rose fought back a bear-sized acromantula. He had been fourteen. Professor Hagrid had arrived just in time and called his pet Pegasus, Polly, who had borne Scorpius, with Rose, directly up through a window to the hospital wing.

Scorpius was still staring at the spider.

"Would you like me to remove it?" Al asked.

"No, I can do it myself." Scorpius gingerly swept the spider onto the floor and stepped on it. "Sorry, what were you saying, Rose?"

"I was saying, I think the problem with the sky is that the bewitching spell has disconnected from Al's cylestiander while we were away."

Al nodded. "We'll have to repair that tomorrow, it's almost time for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I will just finish canning the cobwebs..."

Scorpius looked around the chamber for anything else that needed cleaning or fixing. The floor needed mopping, but Scorpius wasn't in the mood. He wandered over to a space between two pillars, where he had transfigured a table (taken from an unused classroom, shrunken to carry down the chute, and then re-enlarged down in the chamber) into a rough grand piano. Next to it was a large shelf of sheet music, and Scorpius pulled out a piece of Debussy called "la cathedrale engloutie."

He sat down and put his hands on the keys.

"Oh my! It _is_ time to go," announced Rose. "We only have fourteen minutes."

Scorpius left the music on the stand and ran to his broom. He followed Rose out the doors, while Al extinguished the lights behind them. Up through the pipe they flew as quickly as smoke in a chimney, with Al snuffing out each of the lights as they passed.

o.o.o.o

Most of Scorpius' classes began where they had left off in sixth year with nothing extraordinary (even the destructive multicolor explosion that Zivian Zonko produced in Potions was a typical event). The exception was Arithmancy. When Scorpius entered the first Arithmancy class five minutes early with Al and Rose, he found that Professor Vector's heavy emerald curtains and sparse decor had been abandoned in favor of sunlight from large uncovered windows and rows of gold-framed Numerology, Prognotistics, and Grammatica reference charts along the opposite wall. The back of the room was lined with cupboards and bookshelves, and in front, on a red velvet cushioned stool sat a very young looking house-elf.

The elf had big blue eyes, wore a yellow dress with puffy sleeves, and swung her feet, wearing clean black slippers, back and forth in the air. When she saw them, she squealed and jumped down off the stool.

"Rosie!"

Rose knelt and held out her arms. The elf ran and jumped into them, and Rose whirled her around.

"Kreah," laughed Al, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I came along to see the castle when Mr. Weasley came to talk to the Headmistress this morning. I hope your first few days have been good, Albus, and...you must be Scorpius. Rosie has told me about you."

Scorpius was surprised and impressed—'I,' she had said, and 'have been,' and 'has told me.' He had never heard a house elf speak so well.

"Oh, um, yes. I am Scorpius, and Rose has told me about you as well, Kreah. She speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you..." squeaked Kreah, but with hesitation. She looked out the window as if worried about something.

"What's bothering you?" asked Rose.

"It's only...when I visited the Hogwarts elves in the kitchen, they said it was shameful for me to be free and get paid by a family, and that it was even worse to work for the ministry...speaking my opinions to witches and wizards."

Sounding concerned, Rose answered, "Mum and Dad did warn you that might happen. You're wonderful, Kreah, whatever others may say."

"I suppose I expected...I expected them to be downtrodden or unhealthy or something. They seemed so happy, all together, and mostly older than me, so it makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Rose asked gently.

"If they might know better than I do, and how can I represent them to the ministry, when they don't want me there?"

Scorpius realized Kreah must be a part of Hermione Weasley's new committee. She certainly seemed young for the responsibility, even if she was better educated than most elves. She was even younger than himself, he was fairly sure.

Rose bit her lip. "Hmm, those are serious concerns, but I still believe you are doing the right thing. It's up to you, of course. If you feel overwhelmed in the committee, you know that you can resign any time."

"Yes, I know...Mrs. Weasley did tell me, but she so wants an elf on the committee, and no one else volunteered."

"I think you'll be brilliant," said Albus, as the three students chose desks near the windows in the front. Scorpius' habit was to sit behind Al while Rose sat in front of him, so they could both talk to Al without talking to each other, but supposedly they were normal friends now, so Scorpius broke the pattern and sat next to her.

Then Rose asked Kreah, "Did you hear what Professor Vector said to Mum and Dad, about Emmie? Did they consult the sorting hat?"

Kreah shrugged. "I wasn't there, but Mrs. Weasley told me Emmie will stay in Slytherin. I hope Em is comfortable down there...is it really a_dungeon_?"

"The other elves could show you our common room, I'm sure," stated Scorpius. "I've found it quite comfortable, and Emilia seems to love it so far."

"Is it warm enough?" asked Kreah.

"Yes; it's cool in warm weather, but in the winter it's much warmer than the towers. Think of it as well insulated."

Al considered, "I've seen rats in the dungeon corridors, do you ever have—"

"No we do not have rats! It's clean, and the dormitories are full of cats anyway."

"I suppose that's better than Ravenclaw," said Kreah, oblivious to Rose trying to shush her, "Rosie says they have bats and birds roosting in their tower."

"Gross," Scorpius teased.

"I rather like them," said Rose loftily, "birdsong is nice in the morning."

Three more Ravenclaws and one more Gryffindor student entered the class. Kreah patted Rose's hand and whispered, "I should go now. Hogwarts elves is not being seen."

"What?" Rose scowled.

"Sorry, I mean, they say we shouldn't be seen around the castle. Goodbye!" Kreah said, and disappeared with a snap.

Al shook his head. "It sounds like the Hogwarts elves might be a bad influence on her."

Rose shook her head. "They're not bad, just set in their ways. Kreah will have to come to terms with traditional elvish culture...but I do hope she doesn't start talking like them."

"How old is she anyw—" Scorpius began to ask, but stopped when the classroom door flew open and Hermione Weasley strode in, wearing deep plum-colored robes and carrying several scrolls of parchment.

"Good afternoon. Quietly get out quills and ink, please, and put your books away."

Scorpius, who had had everything ready on his desk, stowed Eratosthenesian Calculeux in Design and Advanced Grammatica back in his bag.

With a flick of her wand, the scrolls soared from Professor Weasley's arm over their heads, to land one on each of the seven students' desks.

"When I say 'begin,' unseal your parchment. You will have 40 minutes to complete this assessment. You may refer to the charts, but not to each other." She set a large hourglass on her desk, and said, "Begin."

_Merlin! _Scorpius thought as he broke the wax seal, _even Vector or Phrome wouldn't give a quiz until the second day of class. No introduction, no syllabus, just 'Good afternoon' and a fifty-question exam._ That gave him less than a minute per question. He rolled through the scroll and saw that some of the calculations would take longer than a minute, so he tried to hurry through the first questions.

'Who was the earliest known Arithmancer? A) the Greek Eratosthenes, B) the Norse Udric, C) the Indus Valley Dhavira, D) the Chinese Lao Ming.'

Dhavira was certainly the oldest of the options, but Scorpius was fairly sure she had only dealt in potions and charms, not Arithmancy, so he circled 'D) Lao Ming.'

'Which of the following is not one of the main branches of Arithmancy? A) Prognotistics, B) Numerology, C) Calculeux, or D) Grammatica.'

Numerology was not a main branch, but the set of rules and operations that was used in all of the branches, so he circled B).

'A skilled prognotistician will be able to predict the future more definitively than a skilled Seer. A) True, B) False.'

Scorpius hesitated on that one, because Prognotistics, by definition, only told the probability of something happening, while Divination claimed to tell what assuredly would happen. A prognotistic statement was always true ('you have .02 chance of becoming minister of magic' would still have been true whether the outcome fell within the .02 chance or outside of it. Whatever actually ends up happening, there was still the .02 chance), but a true Seer's prophecies always came true as well. _Didn't they? _Scorpius wondered. Then he remembered that Rose considered Divination nonsense, and he supposed that her mother would feel the same. Besides, teachers always liked their own subject best. He marked A) True.

For the next ten minutes he worked through Prognotistics problems. He used the proportional summer growth of a sample of Rowan trees to predict with 95% confidence that the winter snow would reach between 20 and 27 centimeters, and he used the brightness and closeness of Jupiter and Venus on the night of a hypothetical witch's birth to forecast with 87% certainty that she would make less than 3000 galleons a year, which was more than two standard deviations below average. _Poor witch,_ he thought. All of the problems used operations Vector had taught them in fourth or fifth years and Scorpius had very little difficulty with them.

'List at least two constructive uses for Calculeux.'

Scorpius scribbled, 'designing magical objects,' and 'measuring strength of spells.' He could have thought of more, but the exam only asked for two.

In the following section of Calculeux problems, the graphs and calculations became more complex, and after the first two or three problems they were beyond what Vector had taught in sixth year. Scorpius hoped he wasn't the only one who left several problems blank.

As he rolled through his scroll to the questions about Grammatica, Scorpius noticed that more than half of their time had passed. He had about half of the exam still to do.

'List the seven categories of energies used in spells in order from least to most intense.'

Scorpius wrote, 'jinx, charm, bewitchment, hex, curse, enchantment...' It was only six. Scorpius didn't waste time trying to remember the seventh category, but moved on.

'Name at least five spells that combine grammatical and incantationless magic.'

_Ah yes!_ Scorpius realized that the seventh category of magical energy he had forgotten was the variety (or varieties) known to arithmancers as 'incantationless' magic. It was a miscellaneous grouping of energies with which witches and wizards could, like other magical species, perform wandless and wordless magic. That didn't apply to regular spells cast nonverbally, since those still relied on the incantation being thought, but true wordless magic, done when one might not even know an incantation or have a wand. Types of incantationles magic were also needed for certain spells that didn't work with the incantation and wand motion alone. He inserted 'incantationless' before 'jinx' at the beginning of his list for the previous question, and then listed spells, 'Summoning Charm, Legilimency Enchantment, Mobility Bewitchments, Riddikulus Anti-Hex...' Scorpius hesitated. The Unforgivable Curses were obvious answers for this question, but he was reluctant to write any of them. He didn't want Professor Weasley to think he had any interest in dark arts. He tried to think of another spell that needed special focus combined with an incantation.

"Mr. Malfoy, please stop tapping on your desk." Professor Weasley called from the front of the room.

"Sorry, Professor." Scorpius had been fingering arpeggios subconsciously, and he stilled his fingers.

He finished his list with 'Patronus Charm,' and then continued working through the exam. He answered questions about spell-particle models, sketched diagrams of spell-particles and described how their energy was released in various ways when they hit their targets, and began some long calculations of spell effects based on the components of Grammatica.

The problems got progressively harder. Scorpius got stuck trying to calculate how the moderate emphasis on the fourth syllable of 'tarantellegra' changed the formation pattern of the spell-particle made by the first three syllables. He wasn't sure if Vector had taught them that. He glanced at the hour-glass. The time was almost up, and he still had nine problems left. Rose, from the look of her scroll, was closer to finishing.

"Malfoy."

Scorpius was startled by Professor Weasley, who warned, "This may only be a pre-test, but if you wish to stay in my class, keep your eyes on your own parchment."

"Yes," he promised.

Embarrassed, Scorpius attempted to bury his nose in his exam. _What was I thinking, sitting in the front? I should have sat behind Al._

He tried a few more problems but didn't finish any before their time ran out.

"Quills down," Professor Weasley announced.

Each of the exam scrolls suddenly coiled shut. Scorpius watched in fascination as his scroll vibrated on his desk, and then sprang open again, showing a neat red-inked "46%" at the top, and red marks on the questions. Other students let out exclamations and began comparing their scores. Scorpius saw Narayanan frowning over a "29%" and Poe trying to hide a "16%," but Al seemed happy with "67%" and Rose was looking for the one error that had brought her score down to "98%."

Professor Weasley stood and the conversations stopped. She said, "The scrolls have been given a Protean-based bewitchment that I altered to mark and calculate discrepancies."

"That's my aunt," whispered Albus with satisfaction.

"Look through your pretests with me now. Did any of you miss questions on the history and purposes of Arithmancy?" She waited. "Very good. How about Prognotistics?"

To his surprise, Scorpius' answer to the question about Divination was wrong. To his even greater surprise, so was Rose's, and half of the other students'. Rose raised her hand and asked, "Are Seers' predictions really more definitive than Prognotisticians'?"

"Yes, Rose. It's important that the question said 'skilled' Seer. A skilled seer will know when they have given a true prophecy and will not tout nonsensical superstitions. A true prophecy always comes true, and although its wording may be ambiguous, its certainty is absolute. Events prophecied by Seers tend to be so bizarre and unlikely that any Prognotistician would have rounded their likelyhood down to zero. Yet, I have seen them come about. Of course,Arithmancy is much more useful because skilled Seers are rare, while anyone can do prognotistical analysis if they know how. I feel it is important for you to understand the limitations of our field, however, and to respect Divination in its true form, though many Arithmancers would disagree with me."

Professor Weasley discussed a few problems that other students had solved incorrectly.

"The Prognotistics in this exam was similar to what you might see on your N.E.W.T. It seems that as a class you already know it well, as Professor Vector told me you would, so we will spend very little time on Prognotistics this year. On to Calculeux; most of which you have not yet been taught..."

Rose was the only student that had answered more than three of the Calculeux questions, or more than half of the Grammatica questions.

Scorpius had missed one point on the question about types of magical energies. The red ink on his parchment indicated that incantationless magic was not the least intense, but the most intense, and should have been listed after 'enchantment.'

Professor Weasley assured the class that most of them were doing as well as Professor Vector had taught them and that they were on track for theN.E.W.T. curriculum.

"This year we will focus on Calculeux in the context of design, and move beyond grammatical spell analysis to creating original spells," she said. "I hope to prepare you well, not only for the exam, but to use Arithmancy productively in your lives and careers. As you may know, the N.E.W.T. requirements include a project as well as a written examination. Your projects will take a significant amount of time and work to meet N.E.W.T. standard, so we will start them right away. I will discuss the requirements with you next week, and then you will need to have a proposal submitted and approved by mid-November."

With that, Hermione Weasley levitated all of the exam scrolls up into a neat pile on her desk and dismissed the class. Al and Rose left their things at their desks in a hurry to congratulate her on her first lesson. Scorpius followed their other classmates—Narayanan, Poe, Dippet, and Allegri—toward the door. However, Professor Weasley asked him to stay before he could get away. He braced himself and walked up to her.

"Professor, I wasn't cheating when I glanced at Rose's scroll, I was just curious how far she was in the exam, because the time was almost up and I wasn't very close to finishing."

She waited for him to finish talking, then said, "Hmm. I will trust you this time, but I want to know how Emilia is doing."

"Oh!" Scorpius had forgotten that he was supposed to talk to her about that after each Arithmancy class. "She seems happy. She got stuck in the trick step of the grand staircase the other day, but every first year does..."

"Mum, what did Professor Vector say?" inquired Rose.

Al asked, "Did you put on the Sorting Hat?"

"Professor Vector told me she wasn't willing to break the long-standing Sorting Hat tradition in her first week as headmistress, and she also seemed sure that Emmie could settle in well in Slytherin. I trust Septima Vector; she was a good teacher. The Hat...the Hat said that things are changing. It admitted that today's Slytherin house is not what Salazar Slytherin planned, but that if interest in pure-blood supremacy or the dark arts were requirements, there would currently be only three or four students in Slytherin. To keep the houses balanced, the Hat has been using other qualities, like ambition or magical aptitude, to sort students into Slytherin for several years. It seemed quite pleased with itself for being able to negotiate its enchanted instructions so far as to send students to unlikely houses, especially Emmie."

"What Slytherin qualities did it say she had?" asked Rose.

"It didn't specify...but I suppose Hugo made some valid points; Emmie has her little way of charming people, and animals, to do what she wants. She has strong and unique magic."

"Hm." Rose pursed her lips.

Professor Weasley folded her arms in a businesslike manner. "And so it seems, her sorting is set in stone—a fitting metaphor, considering the dungeon dormitories..."

Scorpius smiled at the pun. She addressed him. "Can you guarantee to me that she won't be bullied?"

"With...ninety-seven percent confidence, Professor."

Al laughed. "Where's your data?"

"Where? In our common room, I guess," said Scorpius. "I talked to everyone."

"Ninety-seven percent is decently confident," said Professor Weasley, "and it might be unrealistic of me to expect all hundred percent from you, Mr. Malfoy, so how can we account for the other three percent? What do you know about those two friends of hers, June, and Alexis?"

"June Nott is the daughter of Theodore Nott—you would have known him, Professor—but she grew up in the muggle world. She seems a bit clueless, but nice enough."

"Hmm..., and Alexis?" asked Hermione Weasley.

"Scrivenshaft?"

"I think so. The one with black hair."

"Well, she stood up for Emmie during the opening feast. She seems proper and straight-faced, and a bit sarcastic. I think her family runs the quill and ink shop."

"Keep an eye on them for me, Mr. Malfoy."

"I will, Professor." He said, but wondered how he was going to watch over Emmie all the time, when it was his N.E.W.T. year and he would rather be in the Chamber of Discoveries, studying and playing the piano.

**Notes:**

**I would like to think that I came up with most of these ideas on my own, but it wouldn't be true. The universe comes from JK Rowling, of course, and a few of the magical theories (especially things about runes) are influenced by the story called The Arithmancer by WhiteSquirrel. The things about Calculeux/Geometry that come up later in the story are mine.**


	5. Its Own Identity

**5\. Its Own Identity**

"_How adequate unto itself_

_Its properties shall be_

_Itself unto itself and none_

_Shall make discovery._

_Adventure most unto itself_

_The Soul condemned to be —_

_Attended by a single Hound_

_Its own identity."_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

Orange sunlight shot down in dancing shafts through the lake's water on Saturday morning, filtering through green seaweed and into the Slytherin dormitory where Scorpius and one of his dorm-mates, Jack Stopper, were waking up and getting ready for the Quidditch try-out.

Decked in their gear, but still rubbing their eyes, they walked out into the common room.

A group of third and fourth years was crowded around Gerald Portobello in a corner of the common room. One of them, a boy with pointed eyebrows and a jerky, bouncy walk, broke away from his friends and anxiously joined Scorpius and Jack to go through the wall doors.

"Hi Malfoy, and Stopper...I'm Vaughn Drang. I'm a third year." said the boy breathlessly. "I'm trying out for the team. I really want to play, I mean I _really_ want to play. I've practiced every day of the summer, for two or three hours a day. How much did you practice in the summer?"

"Yeah...a couple of hours a day of practice," said Scorpius coolly. _Of piano practice..._

"Um, once a week, maybe." said Jack.

"I'm flying on a nimbus...it's kind of old. Your brooms look amazing." Vaughn Drang looked at their Definitive Firebolts longingly as they walked through the dungeons. "That's the Firebolt Seeker, and that's the Keeper?"

Jack smiled and held out his broom to the younger boy. "Yeah, Malfoy's parents bought the whole team set when he got onto the team second year, so if you get the position, you'll be on a Firebolt Chaser."

"Oh man. Can you see the differences?"

"Yep," said Jack. "Look, mine is shorter and thicker than Scorpius', with more weight at the tail because I have to be able to keep steady and switch directions fast, while his is all for speed and sudden changes of altitude. The Firebolt Keeper is the slowest of the team set, but I'll bet it's still faster than your old nimbus."

"What about the Firebolt Chaser?"

"It's shorter than the Seeker but longer than the Keeper...about the same length as the Beater but lighter. The Chaser loops and swerves really well." Jack explained animatedly, happy to have found someone who was just as eager to hear about the team brooms as Jack was to talk about them.

They reached the entrance hall. "Can you give me any advice for the try-out?" Drang pleaded with the seventh year Quidditch players. "For a sickle?"

"Um, don't let the other guys past you," said Jack.

A sickle wasn't an impressive bribe to Scorpius, but there was no sense in not taking money when it was offered. "Viola Seonnay will be looking for someone who knows tactics, and who can follow her

and her brother's lead. They're twins so they work together in a specific way as Chasers, and the third Chaser will have to fit in with them."

Drang nodded and grinned, saying, "Thanks!" and handing them each a sickle. "It's gonna be awesome if I make it..." but Scorpius sensed something sneaky behind the boy's voice.

Scorpius stared at Drang's eyes, and asked, "Did you buy a—"

Drang quickly turned away, said "see you, bye!" and ran to take breakfast at the far end of the Slytherin table.

Outside, a few members of the Gryffindor team lingered in the stands. Emilia and her first year friends sat with them, and Mr. Higgs had turned up with a pack of butterbeer and a kettle of popcorn.

Viola sent the fourteen candidates flying laps around the pitch. She hovered in the middle, along with the team: Sebastian, Jack, Scorpius, and the Erlkonig brothers. "Watch their form, not their mere speed," she said, "an' if there be one that passes others dexteriously or one that knows how to block others from passing them, point them out to me."

After only a few minutes there was a clear separation between two groups of flyers. Half of them were going much faster than the rest. Vaughn Drang was in the middle of the faster group, trying to elbow his way past the witch beside him.

Viola called them down. She marched up to the sixth year that had been in the lead, and hovered a few inches up on her broomstick so they were nose to nose.

"You smell like burnt doxie wings. You took of a speed potion—true?"

The sixth year shook his head.

"You did, no jot;" Viola contended, "I know the odor well. Say something. Tell me how to do the Porskoff Ploy."

For a moment the sixth year looked desparate, but he opened his mouth and said in a fast, squeaky voice, "that's where two Chasers corner one of the other team and—"

Vaughn Drang interrupted him in a perfectly normal voice, "No, the Porskoff Ploy is one Chaser passing the Quaffle to another Chaser below them. You two used it to get past Hugo Weasley last year." He nodded to Viola and Sebastian.

Viola looked impressed. "Drang is your name, aye? An' you were fast, but didn't drink a speed potion?"

"Nope, I didn't," said Drang proudly, deception in his eyes. "Portobello was selling them in the common room this morning, but I thought I could do fine without."

"He's lying," said Scorpius. "We can't have someone on the team that cheats in games or we'll be penalized. They should be disqualified now."

Several squeaky voices protested.

"Drang doesn't smell like the potion," said Sebastian.

"I didn't take it!" Drang insisted.

Scorpius pried for details by pointing his wand from inside his pocket and silently forming the word legilimens as he stared at Drang. Without the spell, he could tell that Drang was lying, but with the spell he could try to pull pictures of memories and specific thoughts. Scorpius wasn't perfectly skilled at it, but some people were easier to understand than others.

In a few seconds Scorpius knew, "His voice is normal because he didn't overdose on the potion, and he ate mints to cover the smell."

Drang held his forehead in his hands with a disoriented scowl. "Merlin spitting rattlesnakes! What did you do, Malfoy?"

"It's called Legilimency."

"Never heard of it," said Jack.

"I've heard my father name it...'tis like to mind-reading...is it valid, of a truth?" Sebastian asked curiously.

Max and Gus snorted skeptically.

Mr. Higgs yelled across the pitch, "Less talk, more flying! Come on, up! Up! Up!"

"Up! Up! Up!" repeated Emilia.

Viola asked, "Be Malfoy's mind-reading of what validity so'er, could Mr. Higgs do it?"

"I doubt it," said Scorpius, glancing up at the man munching popcorn in the stands.

Viola kicked off. "Then Drang wouldn't have been caught. My choice is nay to disqualify any one yet, but I'll expect a bounty more speed from you who bought Portobello's potion. Let's catch some Quaffles."

"We're still only as fast as our brooms can go," squeaked one girl, but Drang smiled as he kicked off into the air after Viola.

It only took an hour for Viola and the team to agree that Vaughn Drang was the most promising candidate.

o.o.o.o

Quidditch practices would be a relief from schoolwork, as long as Scorpius could manage to get everything done. At least he could rely on a good study group, now that Rose was speaking to him again.

He gave up on sitting by her in Arithmancy after the first class, feeling more comfortable further back. While Al filled parchment with Japanese characters that might have been a direct translation of Hermione Weasley's requirements for their N.E.W.T. projects, but were more likely a letter to Katsue, Scorpius copied down Professor Weasley's explanation.

The project had to be an original work, an invention that used Arithmancy to create something new. It could be a spell, or it could be an enchanted or bewitched object. They would have all year to finish it, but would have to do most of it on their own outside of class. They were to determine a goal, write their plan, and present it to Professor Weasley during class in November so she could approve it or give them suggestions.

Two months seemed like a generous amount of time to develop an idea for an Arithmancy project. Surely there was some amazing charm, bewitchment, or impressive object yet to be invented. Scorpius thought this might be one assignment he would enjoy.

o.o.o.o

Professor Beatrice Fenwick, an aging ex-auror and the Head of Hufflepuff, arranged the desks in her Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom into groups. She called them "squads," and assigned them to practice and work together. Scorpius, Al, Rose, and Mabeuf Fortescue formed a squad that might have been described as the best of each of the four houses.

Professor Fenwick tapped her cane on the floor and spoke in a creaky voice. "Class! This week will conclude our study of defending yourself against creatures of the dark. Thereafter, our lessons will only be on opposition to dark witches and wizards. Now—you can deal with boggarts and erklings easily if you see them for what they are, and your best bet against the larger creatures is a barrage of hefty stunning spells, like we practiced. The most difficult creatures to repulse are the ones that _are_ darkness—embodied, concentrated darkness. Miss Weasley, the two species I am talking about are...?"

"Dementor, and lethifold." Rose answered.

"Dementor, and the more primitive lethifold, yes. They both feed on our emotions, though the dementor has refined its ability to extract the emotions without harming the body. Mr. Potter, the only way to repel these creatures...?"

Al replied, "The Patronus Charm."

"Correct. Now—this charm requires very intense concentration. You must be prepared to maintain your focus on a happy memory while a dementor is attempting to suck the happiness away from you." Professor Fenwick limped around the room as she explained how to choose a happy memory. Powerful memories sometimes came from a great success or thrill, or more often from family and love. She had the class repeat the incantation, expecto patronum.

"Now, everyone, move your desks and chairs against the back wall so we have some practicing space," Fenwick instructed.

The desks and chairs bumped each other as each student levitated theirs back toward the wall, but over the noise Professor Fenwick called, "Stand in a line! Spread out a bit! Watch me first."

She closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate with great effort. She breathed a deep, contented inhale, and pronounced, "expecto patronum!"

From the silvery glow at her wand tip there emerged a bright, heavily armored tortoise. It ambled smoothly through the air, past the line of seventh years, and then faded away.

"If you can produce a strong enough non-corporeal patronus to repel a dementor, that will exceed expectations on your N.E.W.T.. A corporeal one would certainly be outstanding, so simply give it your best try. Go ahead now." Fenwick said.

Scorpius whispered to Al, "I don't know...yours might not pass."

"Yeah, I'll be lucky to earn a 'Dreadful'." Al smirked. "You try first."

Students around them were beginning to try the spell. Rose impressed Fenwick with an otter patronus that swam in a circle around the room before dissolving, and two or three others created shapeless flickers of light.

Scorpius pictured blue sky and the treetops behind his manor, where he remembered riding his first broom, chasing after his father and a little golden snitch. Flying was one of the only things that made Draco feel lighthearted, and when Scorpius was younger he had often asked to go fly with him. He focused...the sky, the wind, his father urging him on and the sparkle of the snitch in the sunlight—

"Expecto patronum," he said, but nothing happened.

He decided on another memory, when his parents had taken him for ice-cream after he won a piano competition.

He forgot about the memory when Al said "expecto patronum!" and a large owl erupted into the classroom. It was so brilliant that Scorpius had to blink, and the beating of its wings was tangible enough to send papers fluttering off of Professor Fenwick's desk.

"Aha, there we are," creaked Fenwick, "I was waiting to see if yours would be better than the one I saw you make a few years ago, Mr. Potter."

Al held out his arm, and the silvery owl flew to him and fluttered down to perch. He stroked its feathers, which swirled around his fingers like smoke, but the patronus didn't fade.

"Can you make it speak?" Fenwick asked.

"Yes, Professor." Al said, and he nodded to the bird.

It bobbed its head and opened its beak to sing in Al's voice, "You have heard of the powerful Merlin of old, And of Godric, Ignotus, and Trent; But not one wizard's tale is so tragic, so bold, As this Odo the Hero lament!"

Amid praise and laughter from the class, the owl patronus took a deep breath to begin another stanza of its dirge. Fenwick intervened, "That's quite enough, Potter, we're convinced. Your patronus is well beyond Outstanding...your singing is another matter."

The patronus hooted indignantly, and Al chuckled. Then he hoisted his arm, it spread its wide white wings and took off into shimmering vapor.

"How do you do it, Albus?" asked a Gryffindor girl, Divya Narayanan.

"It's like Professor Fenwick said—you picture a happy memory and focus on the warm, contented feeling, and when you say the incantation, you can feel the charm's energy gathering up toward your heart and out your arm. I have several memories that work, but the best one is of my family's trip to Japan after fourth year."

"I've seen his little sister make one," said another Gryffindor. "All his siblings could do it by their third years—Harry Potter helps them practice it at home during the holidays."

"I don't know where you heard that," scoffed Al, "that's illegal."

_Illegal...but they do it anyway, just like how my father taught me jinxes and hexes during the holidays. It's only muggle-borns that really can't use magic away from school. _Scorpius shook his head.

Fenwick spoke patiently, "Well, we can't all be Potters. The rest of you, keep trying, and don't worry, the first time is the most difficult. Many say they find it easier to conjure a corporeal patronus after they have seen it and can thence visualize the form it takes. I suggest that you consider what animal you most strongly identify with. A witch or wizard's patronus is often an animal they would enjoy being, or one that they behave like in some way. It is also often patterned after a parent, grandparent, or someone you admire—if your parents were able to form patronuses it is highly likely that yours will match one of theirs. Before we try again, rally with your squads, and discuss your ideas about your patronus' form."

Fortescue said, "My dad has never made a patronus, but my mum's is a cat. Uncle Enjolras' is a basset hound."

Rose nodded. "Would you like one of those?"

"I think a hound would be cool—loyal, strong senses of hearing and smell. That's what I'll try to visualize."

"Yeah, I think that would fit you," Al told him. "What about you, Scor?

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't really care. I'll just try to make a non-corporeal one."

Al pressed, "Hey! Don't aim for mediocrity—non-corporeal patronuses aren't half as strong as true ones, and they can't send messages. What kind of animal could yours be?"

"I guess the obvious thing would be a scorpion..." Scorpius said unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." agreed Fortescue.

Al grimaced, "would you want to be a scorpion?"

"No."

"What about your parents, or grandparents? Do any of them make patronuses?"

"No...well...I heard from my mum that her father, Darion Greengrass, could make one."

"And it was...?"

"It was...I think she said it was a tarantula."

Al and Rose exchanged a glance. They knew how Scorpius felt about arachnids. It would be a bitter joke indeed, if Scorpius' own patronus, a symbol of his inner self, was something that he despised. If it was anything related to a scorpion or a tarantula, he would rather not know.

When Professor Fenwick told the class to try again, Scorpius thought of times when his parents or friends complimented his piano music, he thought of Quidditch games won, and he thought of happy times with Al and Rose, but he didn't achieve the faintest glow of a patronus.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius went alone into the Chamber of Secrets during the free period he had while Al and Rose were in Care of Magical Creatures.

He opened the lid of his piano and looked in at the strings, the shiny plate, the soundboard underneath, and the pinblock that held all the strings' tuning pins. He put the sheet music to the side so he could reach in to the tuning pins. The piano had slipped unpleasantly out of tune during the summer. The best way Scorpius had found of tuning it was using a silencing jinx to mute strings so he could play one at a time, and using a lever charm to grasp and rotate each of the tuning pins with a motion of his wand. Scorpius started in the middle of the middle, matched one C string to the sound of a tuning fork, and then matched the second unison string to the first. He continued, note by note, peg by peg, tuning by ear. It took a long time. He doubted that Al and Rose would want to listen to him pounding each note over and over, therefore he was doing it alone.

Between each smooth white or black key and the hammer that hit the string there were dozens of little mechanical parts that he had transfigured into existence. He didn't know exactly how they worked any more than someone who transfigured a tea kettle into a tortoise knew the biological details of reptiles; a wizard just needed a general idea of what he wanted to make, and magic did the rest. Animagi would need a better understanding of how to change their own bodies, but then they could do it without a wand.

The thought of animagi made Scorpius involuntarily imagine himself shrinking into the brittle exoskeleton of a scorpion. Twisting an F# sharper, he shuddered.

"Orion claimed to be a great hunter," Draco had once told Scorpius while they sat at dinner, "he thought he was stronger than any creature in the world, and he went out to prove it, but when he met the scorpion, it stung him and killed him. The scorpion had venom that Orion couldn't see. It was subtle and quick, and that made it better than the best."

"The very best, Scorpius," Lucius had added pointedly.

"Jupiter and Venus were both at their full brightness on the night you were born, which is a sign of good fortune," said Narcissa, "and they were both right inside the Scorpius constellation. That is why you were named Scorpius. It was the same with Draco."

_I was named because of the stars, so it has nothing to do with my personality_, Scorpius told himself as he hammered a G. Yet, there was something about the subtle sting and proud precision of a scorpion, that hit home. Sometimes Scorpius didn't know why he did things—taking a bribe from that Vaughn Drang kid, and the next moment trying to get him disqualified; constantly forgetting to get the thunder ruby out of his trunk to turn in to Professor Vector; craving the friendship of Rose and Al, the best at Hogwarts, yet not trusting them with information like what he had heard in Borgin and Burke's in August.

_I can't tell Al about that, I'm protecting my family,_ he reasoned. Mentioning dark magic to a Potter is effectively the same as reporting it to the Auror Department. _If Marcus Flint found out I was involved, he would storm Malfoy Manor._

There was another voice in Scorpius' head that argued that Al and his dad would be able to get things done without giving away their informant. They could send messages by patronus, after all. _But Harry Potter hates the Malfoys..._ The other voice again argued that no one could storm Malfoy Manor. It had stood strong since 1089, through many wars of muggles and wizards.

Scorpius continued to think as he continued to work. The piano still had a long extent of tuning to do, but it needed to be done. He knew he should be honest with his best friend. Although he didn't want to talk about Flint or the Oni, especially to admit that he had lied before, Scorpius promised himself that if a good opportunity came up, he would tell Al everything.

o.o.o.o

Later, on a Saturday when all three friends were in their Chamber of Discoveries, the piano was in tune and they had finished their homework, which finally gave them enough time to turn their attention to other repairs.

"Where did you find the break between the cylestiander and the ceiling?" Al asked Rose.

"It was a bit more than halfway up," she answered. Al was on his broom, feeling the air with his hands. Rose and Scorpius were spraying water and bubbles out of their wands to clean the floor. It was a large floor, but they were working fast.

"I see," Al said, and then started to move his wand in knot-like patterns in the air. Scorpius expected to see the stone ceiling grow bright, but it didn't. Al flew upwards and touched the stone.

"It's not just the connection. I think the whole bewitchment has worn off. We were only second years when we cast it, so we probably didn't do it very well...Looks like we were not as brilliant and precocious as we thought we were."

"Do you remember how the bewitchment spell went? Scorpius asked.

"I wrote it somewhere..." said Al.

"What if we enchanted it instead?" offered Rose. "It would be more permanent."

"We'll only be here this year," said Scorpius, but Al agreed with Rose.

"Let's enchant it. When the spell is embedded within the ceiling it will keep itself working, instead of needing to be renewed. Maybe in the Spring we can bequeath the Chamber to Lily and Hugo."

Scorpius cleaned the floor around the last pillar and then they gathered around a shelf of Al's notebooks.

"Let me see...second year..." Al said, and pulled down a tattered book. He flipped through it to a page that was full of scribbled words, all crossed out except the last line.

"That would have been so much easier if we had known more Grammatica," Rose said, "do you remember trying different variations of words for the spell? Most of them did nothing."

"But one made the ceiling look like magma," recalled Al enthusiastically.

Rose put her hand on her forehead. "I was terrified that we had actually turned it to magma. But we were just making it show what was below us instead of what was above us."

Scorpius went to the table where he had left his copy of "W^LX NYT TK^NZLAT," and together, the three of them translated the line of magic words into runic symbols. Rose calculated the size of runic text, the right position, and the number of repetitions to carve.

"It's too bad this place is secret. Otherwise you might be able to use it as your Arithmancy project," said Al.

"Mum would not be pleased to know we've been down here," Rose said, "and I'm looking for a project that is more complex and important—something that improves life on a broader scale."

When the enchantment was ready to inscribe on the ceiling, Al took his rune-carving knife and the parchment of runes in hand and mounted his broom, but Scorpius looked over at his piano. His fingers were itching to play.

"Hey, do you need me to help, or will you two be able to inscribe while I play for a few minutes?"

"Go ahead. We've got it."

Al and Rose flew up to opposite sides of the Chamber and started carving the runes repeatedly, in a long strip that would border the rectangular ceiling. Their rune-carving knives, highly developed magical tools, made carving in stone as easy as writing with a quill on parchment.

Scorpius scanned the first page of his music. It was marked Profondement calme. He set his hands on the first chord, which was a splash of low and high notes, the highest note on the right hand being more than five octaves above the lowest note on the left.

Although Scorpius' table-piano was not a great quality instrument, the Chamber had excellent acoustics and the cool, deep sound of Debussy's music floated up to the ceiling where Al and Rose were working.

Above the heavy, parallel bass chords, notes ascended in gently repeating patterns like bubbles rising through water. Scorpius noticed the ceiling begin to change. It now looked like grey clay instead of hard black rock.

"Is this that song about the ocean?" Rose asked.

"No," answered Scorpius as he continued to play, "but it is by the same composer, and it is about water."

"Debussy?" she asked.

"Yes."

Al cheered, "Brilliant, Rose! Scor is always trying to get me to guess the composers and I never get them right."

Al hadn't been with them the last time Rose had heard Scorpius play a song by Debussy. After escaping the acromantula, Madame Pomphrey had kept both of them in the hospital wing overnight, and Scorpius for most of the next day also. She had given him an antidote for the venom and closed the wound, but a scar from the spider's dark magic remained near his elbow. Rose had ran up to visit him after her classes, and when Madame Pomphrey was finally satisfied that the venom was neutralized, the two of them had gone to the Chamber, expecting to find Al. Unfortunately Al and James had taken the brunt of the blame for being out in the forbidden forest and were in detention. Filled with a new appreciation for being able to use his arm, Scorpius had gone directly to play his piano. The song he had been working on at the time was a two piano arrangement of Debussy's _La Mer_.

"This sounds nice..." Rose had said after sitting on the bench by him and listening for a minute, "but it doesn't make sense. The notes are all disorganized...it seems to swirl around without going anywhere."

Scorpius had stopped and laughed. "That's the point. It's about the ocean, which is deep and mysterious, right? No one knows everything that could be in the ocean. It ebbs and flows but doesn't change much. Plus, that's the composer's style. Debussy—he's late romantic. It's great music," Scorpius had said, and then begun playing again.

"Hmm."

"Also, this is only half of it. It would probably make more sense if you heard it all together. It's a duet, that I'll be performing this summer with another one of my teacher's students."

"Oh, who?"

"Erica Lewis. A muggle. She's really nice; I like her a lot."

"You like her?"

"No! I don't _like_ her—I just meant, I don't mind that she's a muggle. If you...If you want, I'll play something else for you. What kind of music do you like?"

"How about something logical and pleasant?"

"Well, for logical and pleasant nothing is better than Bach."

Scorpius had found a large book of music by Bach and turned to a song called _Sheep May Safely Graze_. In contrast to _La Mer_, it had steady, traditional rhythms and comfortable harmonies, yet it was one of the most heartfelt pieces of music Scorpius knew.

Rose had listened, and when it was over Scorpius had asked, "What do you think of that one?"

She had leaned close and kissed him softly.

Scorpius dwelt on the memory while he played, wishing that Rose was sitting next to him now, instead of flying high above.

"What is the name of this song?" she asked.

"_Cathedrale Engloutie_."

"Sunken Cathedral," Al translated.

Rose and Al continued carving the repeating runes, and slowly, green-blue light began to shimmer through the ceiling. Scorpius watched a dense tangle of seaweed sway above as he played a heavy, rolling line of music, and gradually their view in the Chamber rose up through the swaying lake-forest into clearer water.

Fish passed and the giant squid followed them slowly, like a great black whale, its shadow flowing across the stone floor. Water-sifted light cast patterns on the pillars of the Chamber, making the carved snakes appear to swim.

"This is nice. Maybe we should just stop here," suggested Al, but Rose disagreed.

"The enchantment is unstable here. If we wanted to only go so far we would have needed to space the runes out at larger intervals. Besides, I prefer to see the sky!"

Scorpius agreed. He could look up through the lake from his dormitory, so there in the Chamber, he would rather see sky.

As Scorpius brought his song down to its soft, settled ending, Rose and Al brought the ceiling of the chamber up to the shimmering surface of the lake, and then out into daylight.

**Notes:**

**This has taken so long! Real life is really lively, so it's hard to find time to write :) Thanks for still reading.**

**If I were to start over, I think I would cut Quidditch altogether because it has little to do with the rest of the plot...but I thought Draco would want his son to play Quidditch, and it will give me an opportunity to do fun things with characters we love like Hugo and Lily. It's in. I'll try to make it exciting.**

**Just for fun, here are a couple of questions for you magicians out there—**

**1) What kind of spells should "finite incantatem" counteract? All minor charms/jinxes/hexes that are cast on an accessible object/person? It obviously couldn't stop something like Voldemort's jinx on the Defence job...could it stop the Imperius curse?**

**2) How is the Knight Bus not a misuse of muggle artifacts?**


	6. Roosters Crow and Birdies Sing

**6\. Roosters Crow and Birdies Sing**

_Chicken's in the bread pan, peckin' out dough,_

_Big pig's rootin' out the tater now._

_Roosters crow and birdies sing,_

_All join hands and make a ring._

_-Vic Ceder_

* * *

With the sky in view, only the smell of the underground air reminded the three friends that their Chamber of Discoveries was underground and not a roofless outdoor courtyard. It was an ideal place to spend time after class, but if Al, Rose and Scorpius snuck down there every day people would get suspicious, so they only met there two or three times a week.

On one of the afternoons when they were out of the Chamber, Scorpius was reading by the Slytherin common room fire. All was as usual there; Jack and the Seonnays were discussing strategies for exploiting the Hufflepuff team's weaknesses, Zivian was sitting with homework in her lap but glaring inattentively at the fire, Burke and Portobello were sharing an armchair while whispering to each other, a cluster of fourth years was laughing over by the windows, and a duel was about to break out.

Scorpius took out his wand so he could shield himself from any stray jinxes that might come his way, and went back to reading. He wasn't worried that people would use any serious curses, at least not while they knew prefects were watching.

Gus Erlkonig stood and bellowed, "Quit insulting me, Drang, I'm just as n'telligent as anybody else!"

First and second years retreated to their dormitories as Vaughn Drang sneered in reply, "Then why can't you read potions instructions? You'd better buy me a new cauldron because it was your fault it disintegrated."

"Was not."

"Troll." Drang muttered.

"_Petrif_—" Gus began, but he wasn't fast enough.

_"Pedictite!_" Drang shot at Gus' feet, and Gus hopped up and down as his toes were bitten by invisible pincers.

Gus swung his wand out, shouting "_desluge_!" but missed. The hex flew past Drang to the dormitory door, which had just been opened by none other than Emilia Weasley.

Drenched, she screamed, and then started to cry. Her cat hissed, and the entire room seemed to erupt in indignation as students stood or exclaimed. Three or four pet cats streaked in different directions, and a pet salamander darted over to lick the water that dripped off Emilia's robes.

Cristine Burke jumped up and ran to Emilia. Using her wand, she blew warm air over her, and told her she would be alright.

Scorpius knew this incident would not impress Rose, or her family. Feeling annoyed at Gus and Drang, he strode over to them.

"You two should have been more careful."

"I wasn' trying teh hit her," Gus said resentfully. "I can't aim when my feet are jinxed."

"She's not hurt," said Drang.

"Emilia will tell her family, and then Professor Weasley will ask Higgs who he put in detention for hexing her daughter. I'm going to tell Higgs first."

"No way!" Drang protested.

"That isn't fair, now, is it?" said Zivian quietly from her chair. "You didn't try to stop them from dueling before Little Weasley came in. No one ran to Vector about duels before."

Scorpius conceded, realizing she was right. "Fine, but no more dueling in the common room from now on," he said loudly.

Emilia was nearly dry. Nott and Scrivenshaft, who had been trying to comfort her, now looked at Gus. Scrivenshaft put her hands on her hips. "Are you going to apologize to Em, Erlkonig?"

Gus grunted carelessly and started to turn away, but Scorpius glared at him.

"Sorry, Weasley," he said.

"You know that was not nice, Gus. That was the spell that makes me wet and angry and honestly in shock."

"I didn' mean to hex yeh...was aiming for Drang. Hope ye're okay," Gus mumbled.

Emilia sniffed, "Cristine has a good blow-drying power for on me. I forgive you."

Her tears gave way to a smile as she went right up to Gus and hugged him. He looked like his eyes would pop out. "Er..." he said lamely, and patted her on the head. "I'll just go now."

"No, it's alright, you don't need to go. You need to give the other Quidditch boy a hug too and say sorry, because you need some team spirit for being not being angry at each other."

Gus and Drang looked at each other awkwardly, and glanced at Scorpius as if considering coughing up slugs as a better alternative. Finally they shook hands, and sat down.

Emilia's friends flocked around her again, and older students also approached her to ask if she was alright. The mood in the common room lightened, and the cats that had been startled from their places were now purring around Emilia's feet. Scorpius returned to his chair by Zivian.

The Seonnays asked Emilia, "Have you been warmed enough? 'Cold water chilleth deeper than the scales,' 'tis said."

"Do you have scales?" she asked. Scorpius watched—he knew that the Seonnays had a hint of Mer in their blood, but no one ever presumed to ask them about it.

Sebastian laughed. "Scales, nay, but I have held acquaintance with many a wintry wave, an' I always sit to drink something hot by the fire after."

Viola escorted Emilia over to the fire. Scorpius stood. "You can sit here, Miss Weasley," he said.

"Oh thanks, Scorpius!" she plopped down on his chair contentedly while he found a place by a window. The cats curled up on and around Emilia, and her friends sat on the floor.

"Cristine," she asked sweetly, "will you help us with Transfiguration?"

"Of course I will, Emmie!" said Burke, and she joined Nott and Scrivenshaft on the rug, leaving Portobello looking abandoned.

"Let's listen to the Beatles, June," requested Emilia. Nott took her brass music player out of her bag and started a cd on it.

"People are trying to do homework," said Zivian.

Nott hurried to turn the music off, but Cristine asked loudly, "is this music bothering anyone?"

"No, it's cool." "Keep it on," people answered.

"Scorpius?" Zivian appealed.

"I like it," he said honestly.

Zivian rolled her eyes and slouched back in her chair.

Emilia looked at Zivian with concern. "Are you feeling yucky?" she asked. "I could give you a hug or give you a backscratch."

"No." Zivian rolled up her parchment and corked her ink bottle. "I'm just tired. I'll go work in my dormitory...where is my salamander?" She looked around, said "blast—never mind it," and left.

With a mischievous giggle, Emilia pulled Zivian's salamander out of her pocket. "This cutie is with me, aren't you?" she said to the little amphibian.

Cristine took Zivian's empty chair, doing Emilia's homework for her while the first years sang along to their music.

"_Life is very short, and there's no time_

_For fussing and fighting, my friend..._"

Nott clearly knew the words by heart. She tossed her hair dramatically and held her quill in front of her like a microphone. Emilia imitated her.

"_Try to see it my way,_

_Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong._

_While you see it your way_

_There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long."_

Scorpius chuckled as he noticed Gus Erlkonig and other Slytherins humming along with the chorus,

"_We can work it out._

_We can work it out..._"

o.o.o.o

Scorpius watched Rose work out an Arithmancy review problem on the chalkboard.

"If the magic energy of a spell is known to be 45 mirajoules, and its velocity is known to be 20 feet per second, I can use the equation E=1/2 mv^2 to calculate the mass of the spell particle..."

Scorpius allowed an ink blot to form on his notes while he gazed at a complex silver device on Professor Weasley's desk. Its intricate pieces gyrated slowly while Rose solved the equation.

"Thank you," said Professor Weasley, warmly, to her daughter. "does anyone have questions about this formula?"

A Ravenclaw student raised his hand slowly. "How do we get these values? Energy, velocity, mass...how are they measured?"

"That is an excellent question, Poe, because the particles are invisible and move too quickly to weigh, so to find the mass you need to know the velocity. We measure spell velocity by casting the spell at a velometer." She pointed to the silvery device.

Professor Weasley explained how she carefully tightened a few knobs to calibrate the intricate velometer to the magical atmosphere in Hogwarts. It stopped spinning, and she invited the students up to cast spells at it and read their spells' velocity from a tiny beaded abacus on the velometer (which was actually made of white gold and titanium, not silver).

Scorpius was noticing a difference between Professor Weasley's teaching style and Professor Vector's. While Weasley's written homework was intense, she had the students do more active experimenting during class instead of just taking notes on lectures or working through practice problems. Lessons were fast-paced and focused.

"One more trial for each of you, quickly—but carefully please, Mr. Allegri—and then sit at your desks and get out quill and parchment."

The Arithmancy students all enjoyed seeing the perfectly precise way that the metal device twirled and clicked as their spells hit it.

"Velometers are rare and expensive," said Professor Weasley as they sat down, "but very useful, since spell velocity is used to find other properties. Copy this next equation...

"Velocity= (wand length x intensity of intent)^2 - wand density,

/ (average rate of change of bends in wand core).

"...Miss Dippet, according to this equation, which two variables have positive relationships to the velocity?"

"Umm..."

"Which ones will cause an increase in velocity as they increase?" Weasley rephrased.

"Oh, um, wand length and intensity of intent?"

"That's right. And Mr. Malfoy, which two variables have _negative _relationships to the velocity?"

"Wand density and bends in the wand core, Professor."

"Yes. Intensity of intent is a powerful factor, and it should be noted that this formula is only valid for a wand and wizard that are matched to each other. If using someone else's wand, the spell particle is slowed down by an unpredictable amount. Spells can be augmented or hindered by magical friction, such as enchantments in the environment, or potions taken by the caster or the target. When conditions are uncomplicated, however, this equation for velocity shows that the wands that cast the fastest spells are long, light, and straight."

"Like mine—" Tino Allegri whispered to his fellow Ravenclaws, "aspen and unicorn hair, eleven inches!"

"Aspen is famous for speed," Professor Weasley acknowledged, "as are others like cedar, spruce, yew, and elder..." She glanced briefly at Al, whose wand was at least three inches longer than Allegri's, and made with airy phoenix feather, but Al didn't comment.

Professor Weasley opened her book with a hyper-academic gleam in her eye. "We are going to practice calculating the average rate of change of bends in wand cores. Please get parchment ready to graph the wand curves on page 21 of your Calculeux book..."

There were so many steps in the process that Scorpius felt like it was impossible not to make a mistake somewhere...unless you were Rose. It was impossible for her to make a mistake _anywhere._ In Arithmancy, she simply never overlooked anything or got distracted, and her enthusiasm rivaled her mother's.

"Your homework," said Professor Weasley when they were done, "Is to work out the practice problems on page 26. Next week I will show you how to find the density of your own wands, and the curves—if any—in your wands' cores. We will be able to prove by experiment how much of a difference a perfectly straight line makes in propelling magic. Keep working on your proposals for your N.E.W.T. projects, and have a good weekend."

Albus hissed, "I need to work downstairs—see you later," and hurried out. Scorpius followed Rose to Professor Weasley's desk.

"What news do you have about Emilia, Mr. Malfoy?"

"She has made friends with nearly everyone in Slytherin. She has adopted everyone's pets, too."

Professor Weasley looked up from the velometer, which she had been packing into a velvet-lined case. She seemed pleased. "That sounds like my Emmie," she said gently.

"Did she tell you about...anything that happened?"

"She said the Bloody Baron has been guarding her in the corridors ever since Peeves attempted to launch...but you're referring to something else?"

"Never mind. The prefects and other people are happy to help her when she needs it, with homework, or—"

"What happened?"

"Well, a couple of third years were fooling around with hexes and they accidentally got her wet, but she was fine."

"Hexes..." Professor Weasley thought for a moment. "...soizzplatter or desluge?"

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. "Desluge."

Rose blinked at Scorpius and asked doubtfully, "You said she was fine? Getting hit with ice-water didn't upset her?"

"After she was dry she was fine...I'm sorry. I should have stopped them before she came in, but I wasn't expecting Erlkonig to miss—"

"Erlkonig again? Aren't those the brothers that bothered her before?" Weasley asked sharply.

"I know he wasn't trying to hit her."

"How are you sure?"

"I can do a bit of Legilimency, Professor."

Professor Weasley looked at him appraisingly. "At your age? Well, if your mental control is that good, you should do well against Harry. Who is helping Emmie with homework?"

Scorpius didn't know what she meant about Harry, but he answered, "Cristine Burke was writing an essay for her the other day, and Scrivenshaft—"

Weasley interrupted him, "_for_ her?"

"Er..."

"I don't want anyone to do her homework for her! Help, yes, but she is here to learn! No wonder all her teachers have been telling me she doesn't need extra help...it mustn't go on. Malfoy, please tell her friends not to do the work for her."

"Alright, Professor," he agreed quietly as Hermione Weasley continued blustering.

"If she has trouble with it I may have to find time to tutor her myself, in-between all of this," she glared at a stack of Arithmancy essays, "and answering letters from the Ministry...but Emilia's education is not a pretense, and I will not let it slide. She is capable of reading and writing and doing magic!" Professor Weasley stomped a foot on the floor. Hands on her hips, she took several deep breaths, then seemed to realize who she was talking to.

"So, Mr. Malfoy, if you will relate that to the other first years, and the prefects too, that would help. Also, I have a notice for you to put up in your common room to announce an optional life skills class I will be teaching on Saturdays." She pulled some sheets of parchment out of her desk. "Emilia needs extra time practicing the magic that she will use often in everyday life, but she will enjoy it more if other students are learning with her. I spoke to Professor Vector. Everyone ought to know cooking, safety, travel, and such, so it will be open to anyone who wants to come. Rose, here is a copy of the announcement for the Ravenclaw common room. Will you find where Al ran off to, and give him this one for Gryffindor, and someone in Hufflepuff...?"

"Sure, Mum."

Professor Weasley handed the last announcement to Scorpius, saying, "For Slytherin."

"Yes."

"And no more hexes."

"No, Professor," he nodded, and left the Arithmancy classroom with Rose.

When they were in the corridor, he asked her, "what did she mean about doing Legilimency against Harry Potter?"

"Not Legilimency," answered Rose. "She was referring to Harry coming to teach us about the Unforgivable Curses. He comes to the seventh year Defense class each year, and we'll get the chance to try to resist the Imperius curse."

"Oh yeah...I forgot about that." Scorpius said, as his stomach churned at the prospect.

"She was right though—since you can do Legilimency, you will probably do well. Speaking of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Fenwick is done working with us on patronuses now. How is yours?"

"Nonexistent."

Rose looked solemn, and reached into her book bag, which was even more full than usual. "Making a patronus is important, Scorpius. It's a matter of safety—you need to keep working on it." She pulled six or seven books out of her bag with titles like /Producing Your Protector by Kingsley Shacklebolt, /Delusions of the Demented by Amythist Abroad, and /Soulful Sentinel by Whitman Silver.

"I found these in the Library. They might help."

Scorpius didn't feel any enthusiasm for conjuring a patronus, but he appreciated the time she had taken to scour the library for him, so he took the books.

"Thanks, Rose. I'll read them."

They walked toward the entrance to the Chamber, but on the way they met Lily Potter and Tony Dolohov.

"Lily! Tony!" Rose called. "Will you put these notices up in your common rooms? My mum is teaching an open life skills class. The first one is this Saturday."

Dolohov took the notice for Hufflepuff and looked at it. "Cooking! That sounds fun."

"It's the same day as the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch game," commented Lily.

"The game should be done before three o'clock," reasoned Rose.

Lily smirked innocently. "Just don't take forever catching the snitch, Malfoy!"

o.o.o.o

The smell of Autumn was in the wind that whipped Scorpius' green robes. He ignored the tactics of the Chasers and Beaters as he squinted around the Quidditch pitch for a hint of the golden snitch.

"The Seonnays fishtail the quaffle through Hufflepuff's defenses," shouted Lorcan Scamander from the commentator's box, "Slytherin shoots...and...scores!"

"That's twin-work for you, eh?" added Lysander. "Slytherin tied with Hufflepuff, at thirty points each."

"Yeeeess!" roared Mr. Higgs above the cheering of the Slytherin fans.

Scorpius saw a brief flash near the Hufflepuff stands, and he flew closer. He heard the rush of a bludger somewhere behind him, but he didn't dare look away from where he thought he had seen the snitch. He knew that the Erlkonigs were nearby, and whatever else they might be, they were good Beaters.

"Maximus Erlkonig defends his Seeker," commented Lysander, "no wait, what—"

Scorpius was unprepared for the bludger that suddenly slammed the back of his left shoulder. It spun away, and he looked back at Max Erlkonig, who quickly turned his sneer into a look of surprise.

"Did he just hit it _at_ Malfoy? Slytherin reaches a new level of foul play!" Lorcan exclaimed.

"Time out!" yelled Viola Seonnay, and Higgs blew his whistle.

The teams circled to hover near the grass. Viola hissed at Max, "Bad move, Erlkonig. I place nay blame on you for wantin' to _slug_ Malfoy, but keep it away frae the pitch, aye? Seekers don't come cheap."

Higgs approached them. "Still fit to play, Malfoy?" he asked.

"Yes." Scorpius said.

Shoulder throbbing, he resumed position in the air.

"Nice catch, Malfoy!" laughed a voice from the stands, "but you were confused—the snitch is the little gold one!"

Scorpius glanced over to see that the laughing voice belonged to Liam Finnigan. Scorpius gritted his teeth. Finnigan was an extremely annoying Gryffindor Beater, and Scorpius blamed him for the break-up with Rose.

In honesty, he knew their relationship would have failed anyway. The wonderful kiss in the Chamber of Discoveries had been their only kiss, because they could never again seem to get away from Rose's relatives. In only a few days they had both received a stream of letters from their parents and grandparents that expressed varying levels of disapproval. Then Rose had started asking Scorpius bewildering questions about house elf rights and magical ethics that she had never bothered about when they had just been friends. Their romance had gradually frayed, until one day Liam Finnigan had insulted Scorpius' family, and Scorpius had answered back with a few good threats and insults, after which Rose had stopped talking to him.

Higgs blew his whistle.

"Hufflepuff with the quaffle, moving toward the goal...watch out—Sebastian Seonnay takes the quaffle, passes it to Drang..."

Scorpius tried to keep his weight on his right arm as he leaned forward and glared around the stadium, looking for the snitch. He kept an eye on Fortescue, the Hufflepuff Seeker.

Fortescue suddenly changed directions, and Scorpius turned to follow. He saw what Fortescue was after: the snitch, above the main area of play, hiding in the blur of the sun.

Scorpius ignored Finnigan's voice saying, "Hey, Erlkonig, your Seeker is getting away—hurry, hit him again. He's the one in green!" and flew upwards, reaching. It depended on speed now, and Scorpius was confident that his Firebolt Seeker could outfly Fortescue's Silver Comet. Indeed, as they approached the snitch, Scorpius pulled ahead. He grasped the gold, and in the same moment heard a terrific crashing noise below.

Gus Erlkonig had hit a bludger into the stands, narrowly missing Finnigan, who seemed to have leapt forward into a row of second years to avoid the heavy ball.

"That should be a penalty." declared Professor Longbottom, but Higgs shook his head.

"The game is over. Malfoy caught the snitch before Erlkonig's accident! It's a Slytherin victory, one hundred and eighty to thirty."

Scorpius joined his team on the ground amid cheers. He got Max's and Gus's attention. "I might have deserved that bludger," Scorpius admitted, "but Finnigan deserved it more."

The Erlkonig brothers guffawed in agreement.

o.o.o.o

At least half of Slytherin house decided that a good way to celebrate their win would be to find out what Professor Weasley planned to teach about cooking. They assumed the lesson would involve food.

Scorpius brought one of the books about dementors that Rose had given him, because he wanted to show something interesting he had read to Rose, and Al too if he was there.

Following the instructions on Professor Weasley's notice, the group of Slytherins climbed to the seventh floor. When Emilia complained of tired feet, Viola let her climb up and ride on her shoulders. Opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet, they found the classroom Professor Weasley had chosen for her life skills class.

It was such a large room, Scorpius was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. Rows of new-looking cauldrons, stools, and enough utensils for two hundred or so students were arranged neatly.

There were already a handful of Ravenclaw students there. Rose beckoned for Emilia to sit by her, and Scorpius sat on Rose's other side. Emilia was joined by Nott and Scrivenshaft, while the Seonnay twins filled the stools on the other side of Scorpius.

As more students arrived the room became noisier. Lily, Dolohov, and most of Rose's other cousins came, though Al did not. Scorpius wasn't surprised—Al had more complicated projects to work on. Finally, Professor Weasley entered with a train of mobilized potato sacks ambling along behind her.

"Move along," a squeaky voice said in the corridor, and the potato sacks jostled upon each other to make way for three Hogwarts elves, and last in line, the Weasley's elf Kreah.

_Of course_, thought Scorpius, _the house elves probably brought all these cauldrons and utensils up with the snap of their fingers. Professor Weasley could have chosen a room closer to the kitchens, though..._

Professor Weasley addressed the crowd. "I wasn't expecting half so many of you to come, but I'm pleased that you did! You will have to work in groups of five or six, I'm afraid, since we don't have enough ingredients for everyone. But first, let me have your quiet attention while I introduce the experts; this is Elby, Parsnub, Quinkle, and Kreah, and although their methods of magic are a bit different than ours, they have years of experience cooking, and can help us a great deal. Today we are focusing on safety, as well as creating the right types and levels of heat."

The house elves took turns talking about cooking safety. Elby explained that magic is not always helpful—for example, that using a simple cloth oven mitt is much more convenient and reliable than trying to put a heat-repelling charm over one's hand. Parsnub taught the importance of keeping cooking supplies and potions supplies separate, and he shared several gruesome stories about witches and wizards who failed to do so. Quinkle listed the numerous things that needed to be washed regularly in a kitchen, including one's nose and ears, if they were long, like his. To everyone's delight, especially Emilia's, he taught them a song to help them remember the long list.

Then Kreah grinned proudly as she talked about keeping food at the right temperature. Meat had to be stored below a certain temperature, and cooked above a certain temperature, and not be left out for more than an hour or two at any temperature in between. Scorpius, having never prepared his own food in his life, found it more complicated than he was expecting. Professor Weasley called their attention to a large chart that was already framed on the wall, which showed spells to control heat, ranging from the Permafrost bewitchment that could be used for storing food, to the Incendio charm that created flame hot enough to bring a pot to a quick boil.

"Using Grammatica, you can customize your incantation to summon flames of any color and temperature, but I would not suggest attempting that if you have not passed N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy..."

"It always is best to do what is practical," said Elby sternly, "Elves is making magic without words. You is using spells, but you is not fiddling with new spells today. It is strange for witches and wizards to be wanting to cook, but if you is really wanting to, then these is your directions. You is all chopping potatoes without magic, then using your water spell—what is it, Emmie?"

"Aguamenti," Emilia answered, pronouncing the spell carefully.

"Yes," nodded the elf, "—to be washing the potatoes and boiling them in your cauldrons. Be using the fire spells on the chart. /Incendio first, then as soon as it is boiling, be changing it to /smoulendio until the potatoes are soft. When you is that far, we will be telling you what to do next."

Scorpius whistled the tune to Quinkle's washing song while he chopped potatoes. As soon as Rose was confident that Emilia was using her knife safely, he told her about the dementor book he had been reading.

"It's this one—Delusions of the Demented, by Amythist Abroad. She traveled around the world collecting weird folk stories that people tell about dementors, and I thought this one from the United States was interesting...I'll read it to you, it's just a poem."

"Sure; I will chop while you read," Rose said, and her hand touched his as she took the knife from him.

Scorpius read.

_"A Dementor Went Down To Georgia:_

_._

_"Johnny was a Southern muggle-born boy with a fiddle under his chin._

_Played a reel like a leprechaun—he was the best there's ever been._

_Well one day on a Georgia beach, he was walkin' down the sand,_

_And spotted a shiny fiddle,_

_So he took it in his hand._

_._

_ "The fiddle, it was solid gold, from the chin rest to the scroll._

_Unicorn hair strung in the bow—he up and gave it a pull._

_He liked the sound, so he took what had been washed up by the tide,_

_He didn't know he'd soon be needin' that fiddle by his side:_

_._

_"A dementor went down to Georgia. He was lookin' for a soul to steal._

_He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind. He was willing to make a deal._

_When he came across this young wizard sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot,_

_the dementor jumped up on a hickory stump and said "Boy, let me tell you what."_

_._

_"I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player, too._

_And if you'd care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you._

_Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give a dementor his due._

_Bet that fiddle of gold won't guard your soul 'cause I think I'm better than you."_

_._

_"The boy said, "My name's Johnny, and I've got a fine soul to win,_

_I'll take your bet; and you're gonna regret 'cause I'm the best there's ever been."_

_._

_"Then—_

_ "Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle fast._

_'Cause under that cloak is a bloke just itchin' to make this day your last._

_If you hope to win you gotta play that shiny fiddle made of gold,_

_And if you lose the dementor gets your soul._

_._

_"The dementor opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show."_

_And smoke blew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow._

_He pulled the bow across the strings and it made an evil hiss._

_And a band of heliopaths joined in and it sounded something like this:_

_._

_"'Eeeeeeeooooooeeeee!'_

_._

_"When the dementor finished, Johnny said, "Well, you're pretty good ol' son,_

_But sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done."_

_._

_"The tunes he played went:_

_'Fire on the Mountain.' Run, boys, run!_

_'Wakin' in the house at the rising sun.'_

_'Chicken's in the bread pan pickin' out dough.'_

_'Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no.'_

_._

_"The dementor bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat._

_And he fled that golden fiddle, he was gettin' no soul to eat._

_Johnny said, 'Cloak, just come on back if you ever wanna try again,_

_I done told you once—you son of despair—I'm the best that's ever been.'_

_._

_"And he played:_

_'Fire on the Mountain.' Run, boys, run!_

_'Wakin' in the house at the rising sun.'_

_'Chicken's in the bread pan pickin' out dough.'_

_'Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no.'_

_._

_"So—_

_ "Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle still._

_You beat that dementor, kept your soul, fiddle on and you always will."_

Rose listened, and laughed. "Fiddle on? Well, it sounds like that book is useless. I'm sorry, I just took everything that had to do with patronuses and dementors; I didn't look at the content." Then she noticed that Scorpius was looking thoughtful and asked, "surely you don't think there's any sense in that story, do you?"

"I don't know..." Scorpius answered.

**Notes:**

**The dementor poem is a heavily altered version of the song, "Devil Went Down to Georgia". **

**I didn't send this chapter to my beta reader, so if you, lindahoyland, or anyone else, see any errors please point them out to me**. Thanks much. Happy New Year :)


	7. A Joke

**7\. A Joke**

_"A joke is a very serious thing." _

_-Winston Churchill_

* * *

"Scorpius," Rose said incredulously, "I've never heard anything more absurd! Dementors don't jump up on hickory stumps and play the fiddle."

"Truth. An' merpeople do nay string their bows with unicorn hair," said Viola Seonnay unexpectedly. Scorpius and Rose both turned toward her.

"What?"

Sebastian paused in his potato chopping to respond, "Well, 'twas clearly a Mer fiddle, aye? Made of gold, an' lyin' on the beach like that. But the poem makes a muddle of things; you should nay take it seriously, Malfoy."

"Why do merpeople make golden violins?" Scorpius asked. "Are they magic?"

"Of course," said Viola. "Music from Mer instruments kills lethifins. Every mermaid an' merman carries one when they swim deep."

"I'm sorry, but what are lethifins?" asked Rose.

"Lethifins are akin to lethifolds—marine lethifolds, that live in the deep, dark ravines of the ocean. Have nay you heard of them?"

"They're land lubbers, Viola. There'll be shoals of things they have nay heard of," commented Sebastian.

"And you say that music _kills_ them?" Scorpius questioned. He was intrigued by the idea.

Viola nodded. "Aye. Music is the food of love, after all—it lures them, entraps them, an' then surfeiting, the appetite sickens an' so dies."

"Love?" Rose repeated skeptically. She dumped their potatoes in her cauldron and said, "Incendio." Scorpius stepped back as blistering flame encircled the base of the cauldron.

"Love, happiness, high spirits...the emotions that lethifins feed on," answered Viola.

"...and that dementors feed on, as well," said Scorpius, as the ideas began to fit together in his head.

"It might work against dementors," speculated Sebastian. "Sirensong 'twas used to hunt humans anciently, but that's—"

"—that's nay what 'tis meant for," Viola cut in sharply. "'Tis for self defense."

"So...why do the instruments have to be gold?" Scorpius asked, but the elf Elby called their attention back to cooking.

o.o.o.o

On the morning of October thirty-first there was laughter in the Slytherin common room. The sophisticated silver and green of the dungeon was decked in bright orange. There were drapes on the windows, banners on the chairs, and streamers crossing from wall to wall that hung so low that Scorpius wasn't the only one ducking. Ink illustrations of laughing pumpkins, bats and black kittens danced on each banner. The dungeon had never looked more cheery or chaotic.

A line of calligraphy on a banner above the door said, "Happy Halloween! From XXX, M.E., and August."

Gerald Portobello pointed a finger at the Erlkonigs. "You've got a big mess to clean up."

Cristine Burke added, "And your drawings are tacky."

"Huh? We didn' put this up."

"Really..." Portobello rolled his eyes, "who else has the initials M.E., or a name that sounds like August?"

"The names are suspiciously like yours," Scorpius commented, "but who could XXX be?"

"It could be a numeral," Portobello said, and then he whispered to Burke, "isn't _he_ something like the thirtieth in his line?"

Burke giggled.

_The thirty-seventh since Armand Malfoy, but only the second Scorpius_, Scorpius thought, but he ignored Portobello and looked at the Erlkonigs.

"Don' look at us, we didn' do nothin'."

There was obvious honesty in their faces. Scorpius nodded. "I didn't really think you would. It's not bad decoration for one day anyway," he said, and brushed past Burke and Portobello through the dungeon door toward breakfast.

o.o.o.o

Halloween energy was bubbling in the Great Hall as well, especially around the Slytherin table. The Seonnays had both taken bits of orange streamer from the common room and tied them, pirate style, around their dread-locks, and Emilia had an orange ribbon in her hair. The Bloody Baron sat by her, chatting as happily as such a grim spectre was capable of doing.

In the holiday atmosphere, it might have been easy to accept the presence of Rose's dad, Mr. Weasley, at the high table next to Professor Weasley, except that he looked remarkably serious.

Zivian entered the Hall just as Professor Vector was standing to speak. Zivian shambled toward the Slytherin table.

"Students, good morning and happy Halloween. I have been asked by Mr. Filch to remind you that no one should be wandering in the corridors at night. Needless to say, you should never be outside the castle alone at night."

Along the high table, faces looked strained and serious. Scorpius heard a soft laugh near his ear, however, as Zivian arrived at her seat, and whispered, "Look at old Filch, glaring at the Gryffindors. He must've been chasing some of them last night, and lost them."

Vector continued, "Take note, that all future Hogsmeade trips are being changed from the last Saturday of the month to the second Saturday of the month. That means the trip tomorrow is cancelled. Lastly," she looked at the Slytherins, "if you are wearing something distracting that is not part of the uniform, please remove it now." Vector sat down.

The Seonnays took off their orange bands with mutinous expressions, and Nott nudged Emilia.

"Better take your headband off, Emmie," she whispered.

"Honestly why I would need to do that? I always wear headbands."

"Usually you wear _black_ headbands."

"It's Halloween! It's my hair."

Her friends shrugged. She kept the orange ribbon on.

As students finished breakfast they moved noisily around the Hall and toward the doors. Scorpius noticed Kreah appear at Emilia's side and he went closer to hear.

"The elves that clean the Slytherin dormitories said you were out of your bed last night, and Mister Filch said there were students out on the grounds. It's not safe, Emmie!"

"We weren't outside, we were only in the common room," replied Emilia.

"Really?"

"Really honestly. Tell Dad he won't need to worry."

"Okay, Emmie. He is worried, though. In Hogsmeade..." Kreah bit her lip. "Well, I will see you next week when Mister Potter comes!" she squeaked.

Scorpius picked up his books and headed toward Transfiguration with Zivian.

"It was Emilia, that decorated the common room!" he laughed as he told her. "The names on the banner...M.E. is Emm-ie! August...must be June Nott...and XXX...what's her name? Scrivenshaft...Alexis..."

"Who cares?" said Zivian.

"...Alexis...All X's!" Scorpius laughed again. "A pretty good joke, considering that they're first years."

Zivian looked at Scorpius dryly. "You're pathetic, rich boy. A bunch of banners isn't a joke. If the banners caught fire, if they reached down and tried to snare people, if they made people hallucinate—that would be a joke."

"Especially if it was hallucinations of those cute little cats they drew on the banners." Scorpius said. "Terrifying."

o.o.o.o

A bright blue kingfisher flew low over the surface of the lake, unaware that down in the Chamber of Discoveries, Scorpius saw the feathers of its orange belly clearly against the evening sky. He sat on his piano bench and played high notes in a trill that imitated birdsong as he watched it circle, until it darted downward and disappeared. It had dived below the viewpoint of the enchanted ceiling.

"...the incantation is _rehabit anthroparge_," Al was explaining, "and aim from different sides if you can. So! If I'm still an owl after five minutes, corner me and shoot! I don't think it hurts...but that's incidental." Al looked more animated than Scorpius had ever seen him, which was saying something. He was swinging his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Time's flying!" he said with a grin.

Rose was watching Al with a combination of concern and amusement that added up to resignation. She repeated the incantation for forcing an animagus back to human form a few times, and Scorpius did as well, though he kept glancing at the ceiling to see the kingfisher reappear. Indeed, after a moment the little bird interrupted the sky with a spray of water and a fish in its beak. Scorpius trilled the notes again, magically exchanging the voice of piano for recorder. He added a run with his left hand, in the bright timbre of a harpsichord. Then he stopped to watch Al.

The tips of Al's messy black hair were turning white, as he stood with his eyes closed and his arms stiff with concentration.

"This might take a while," he whispered.

Rose opened her ink bottle, straightened her graph parchment and settled comfortably into her Arithmancy homework. Gradually, as imperceptibly as the darkening sky above, Al was shrinking and collecting a snowy drift of feathers.

Scorpius watched, and his fingers improvised on the bird-trill theme he had been playing. He played without looking at his hands or making much conscious effort to produce the recorder-sharp melody, renaissance-reminiscent parallel thirds, and harpsichord accompaniment. He and Rose both observed Al, he over his piano and Rose over her Arithmancy. Scorpius glanced at Rose's graphs, where she was comparing the curves of goblin fingers and house-elf fingers. Long and nearly straight, both showed capacity to direct magical energy. Scorpius looked down quickly when Rose noticed him.

"Scorpius, how are you doing that?" Rose asked. She continued to write out an equation on her parchment even while she looked across the chamber at his piano. "How are you changing the music to sound like different instruments?"

"I imagine it that way, and it happens. I've been doing it since fifth year."

"Did you invent an incantation?"

"No."

"You're not touching your wand."

"No, I'm not."

"It doesn't make sense." Rose decreed.

"I think there must be magic in music that we don't understand."

Rose dipped her quill thoughtfully. "Maybe there is...but I still don't think stopping dementors with music is a credible notion."

Al, who now looked like an earless house elf in a feathery robe, made an odd clicking sound, and said, "distracting!"

"Sorry," said Rose, and Scorpius stopped playing.

"Music fine. Just don't...interesting...talk aboo..."

Al's voice trailed off. His robes slowly pulled in around him and his arms finished folding into wings. He had become a pure white owl with bright green eyes. The owl took a step, turned its head to examine the room, and then looked skyward. It gave a great hoot, and flew.

The sky, of course, was stone, and the owl was suddenly screeching in frustration. It flapped against the ceiling, scratching at the evening clouds.

"Al!" Rose called. "Albus Potter, please!" She blinked an eye anxiously and tried to wave him down.

"He's lost his mind," Scorpius decided. "Would he still want us to wait five minutes?"

"We had better not. He's hurting himself," Rose said, as the owl swooped down, and then up again only to find that the sky was still relentlessly solid.

"We need to bring him down first; if we transform him up there he'll fall."

"_mobilicorpus_?" Rose suggested. Scorpius nodded, and they both began attempting to take control of the frantic owl.

It realized that they were shooting at it, and retreated behind the stone pillars. Rose and Scorpius followed, and tried again to hit the owl as it clung, panting, to a serpentine pillar. It screeched and took flight again, with Rose shouting after it, "_immobulus_!"

Scorpius tried to summon the owl, hoping that a summoning spell would work because it did not have to hit the object in order to summon it. However, the intense willpower the summoning spell required was blocked if the object had a will of its own. Albus, the human, had as strong a will as anyone, and as an owl that was now smashing his own expensive potions equipment, he apparently still did.

"_Immobulus_!" Rose attempted, but missed.

While the owl was close to the ground, Scorpius took the opportunity to try "rehabit _anthroparge_," but although a yellow jet of light touched the owl, the owl merely screeched and retreated.

"I hit him!" Scorpius protested. "I'm sure that spell hit him but it didn't work!"

"Maybe it really does take two people." Rose said. "That's discouraging, because my aim is hopeless."

"There's no way we can both get him at once, the way he's flying around...not that your aim is worse than mine—I just mean the chances of both—"

"My aim _is_ worse than yours. I think you should keep trying to immobilize him, and I will conjure some barriers...nets, perhaps..."

A loud screech echoed around the chamber as the white owl hit the ceiling once again, but then it fell, unable to fly. With a Seeker's speed Scorpius ran to catch the owl. In the moment he stretched out his arms for it, he remembered the sharpness of Antares' talons, and doubted the wild and wounded animagus would be as gentle as all post owls were trained to be. Scorpius stood between reaching and retreating, certain that he was about to have talon scars added to the old acromantula scar on his arm, but Rose intervened.

"_Immobulus_!" she said. The owl froze mid-fall. It was just inches from Scorpius. One wing looked broken.

Scorpius stood back while Rose levitated the owl gently to the stone floor. He lifted his wand and nodded to her.

"_rehabit anthroparge_," They said at last, casting beams of yellow light at the owl. In a moment Albus looked like himself, kneeling on the floor, hissing like an angry owl.

"You flightless fiends! You—" Al grimaced, and sat down. "It feels like I fractured my left radius." Then he looked up with an apologetic smile. "That went badly, didn't it? Still, I transformed completely, so that's successful for a first try!"

Scorpius was exasperated by Al's good humor. "You should have done something about the ceiling before turning into an owl."

"I should have anticipated that problem myself," Rose said thoughtfully.

"If Rose hadn't immobilized you, you would have clawed me. Madame Pomfrey would have recognized them as owl scratches—so I would have had to come up with a story about a mad owl, or just hidden them and let them heal without help. You were completely _owly_!"

"If I got any owlier I would have to live in the owlery!" Al agreed, "There were moments when I remembered who I was, but the instincts were overwhelming! I wanted to get free and hunt more than anything... but now I have the problem of this broken arm. Madame Pomfrey can mend it in about two seconds, but I'll need to explain how it happened."

"You'll just have to tell her that you were in the Chamber of Secrets, illegally trying to become an animagus," said Scorpius irritably.

"I could tell her that you pushed me," Al joked. "Maybe you would get detention."

Al conjured an extra square of fabric out of his robe.

Rose helped him tie it into a sling around his arm, and suggested, "You could just say that you fell. It's true."

"Yes," Al nodded, "the simplest story is probably the best. I don't like lying if I can help it...but if anyone asks for details, we were practicing in a corridor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I fell. I wish I could mend the bone myself...I'll be putting a few healing spells on my list of things to learn."

"Healers guard their trade secrets almost as closely as goblins," Rose said.

"There's nothing as irresistable as a well guarded secret!" Al answered. "By the way, what were you saying about repelling dementors with music? You almost made me lose my focus on transformation."

"We need to get you up to the hospital wing," inserted Rose.

"Yes. Explain the dementor idea to me while we fly," Al said, and Scorpius did.

o.o.o.o

**Notes:**

**I made some changes to chapter four, mainly that Hermione explained some things after the Arithmancy pretest. Not essential to reread unless you want to.**

**Does it actually increase reviews if I say, "please review!"? I am inclined to think that people will write reviews if they have something to say about the chapter, whether or not I beg them to.**


	8. If You Don't Stand

**8\. If You Don't Stand**

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world."  
-Nelson Mandela

"If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything." -Gordon B. Hinckley

* * *

Al was much more interested in the possibility of defeating dementors with music than Rose had been at first. At random moments his eyes would light up and he would say something to Scorpius like, "gold is one of the best materials for conducting energy, and it resists corrosion. That has to be important!" or, "when you play the piano, do you ever feel like you're using emotions from your memories?"

The more Scorpius and Al talked about it, the more open Rose became, until she too was considering, "if golden instruments could project emotions, they would probably have to be made with a specific alchemical formula. We could look through the library..."

Scorpius knew it would be risky to choose such an uncertain, experimental concept for an arithmancy N.E.W.T. project. It might not even have much relevance to arithmancy...but if it did, and Scorpius somehow made it succeed, what a discovery it would be! If it didn't succeed, at least gathering information about Mer instruments might lead to a good topic for a History of Magic essay, or perhaps analyzing the use of emotion against dementors would help Scorpius learn to conjure a patronus.

The day arrived when Scorpius considered skipping his Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Emilia had livened the dungeons in the morning with a song of "Uncle Harry is coming today!" and Scorpius expected to see Harry Potter join the staff at the high table at lunch, as he usually did once a year on the day that he came to teach the seventh year class.

At lunch, however, the head table displayed no one but the usual staff. Scorpius felt relief, in contrast to the general air of disappointment that emanated from the students. At the front of the Slytherin table, Emilia picked at her chicken caesar salad and watched the doors expectantly. Over time she looked more and more frustrated, until she turned around toward Rose at the Ravenclaw table.

"Rose! Hey there, Rosie! When is Uncle Harry coming, because you know he wrote lunchtime he would be here?"

"In the past he has been here at lunch, Em. He must have some reason for being late."

"But he really is coming?"

"I don't know."

Emilia turned from Rose, pushed her plate away and laid her head in her arms on the table. Rose jumped up and crouched beside her.

Putting an arm around Emilia's shoulder, Rose said, "I'm sure he will come as soon as he can, and I'm sure he won't come and go without visiting you, he'll come to your class if he has to."

"..._your _class," was what Scorpius heard of the muffled reply.

Rose rubbed Emilia's shoulder thoughtfully for a moment, then cajoled, "Emmie...you know that Uncle Harry loves you, and I'm almost certain that you'll see him today."

When Emilia made no response, Nott said, "She's had a hard morning. Professor Clearwater made Alexis and I stop helping her in potions, and so Emmie just froze up and didn't do anything all period, and we weren't allowed to talk to her, so...so now, with Mr. Potter not being here..."

"Oh dear," said Rose. "I'm sorry about potions, Emmie. Mum will talk to Professor Clearwater, and everything will be ok."

Scorpius edged down the Slytherin table to join them. "Can I help?" he asked.

Rose sighed. "Maybe. Emmie, can Scorpius help?"

She didn't answer.

Scorpius offered, "You could have my chair in the common room, or...you could make banners for the Slytherins to hold at the next Quidditch game..."

"Mm," Emilia said, but didn't lift her head from her arms.

Al, Hugo, and Lily approached from the Gryffindor table. Lily enveloped Emilia in a hug.

"What's up?" Hugo asked, giving Scorpius a suspicious glance before focusing on Emilia. "Em, are you sick?"

Emilia shook her head.

"Are you sad?"

She nodded.

"Are you angry?"

She shrugged.

Rose explained, "Emmie had a hard day in potions, but she's also upset that Uncle Harry isn't here yet."

Al leaned close to Emilia and said, "Dad sent his patronus to Lily and I, and to Professor Fenwick; he said he's extra busy today at work so he will only be coming for the class."

Rose quickly added, "We will tell him to visit you after class. You'll be in Greenhouse 1?"

Nott and Scrivenshaft nodded.

"Do you need us to help you practice for potions?" Al asked.

Emilia shook her head.

Hugo attempted to amuse his little sister― "Do you need to be tickled?" ―by tickling the back of her neck, which got her to sit up, but only long enough to give Hugo the most adorable deadly glare Scorpius had ever seen.

Then she said, "Can everybody go to your own tables so I promise I will be fine. This is Slytherin space," and she hid her head in her arms again.

They looked at each other in defeat. Lily said, "We love you, Emmie. Cheer up soon, ok?", then they dispersed.

Professor Weasley, who had been watching from the high table, seemed to see this as her cue to step in. Scorpius retreated.

Nott began to explain, "Professor, I think Emmie is―"

Weasley winked and held a finger to her lips. "Emilia, dear, I'm _so_ sad that Harry isn't here yet...I think I need a hug to make me feel better."

That was all it took.

o.o.o.o

"This year's class is quite good, if I may boast," Professor Fenwick said in her creaky old voice.

"Show me!" challenged Harry Potter, who had entered the class just moments before, accompanied by two other aurors―Ted Lupin, whose official blue robes matched his hair, and Madame Calhoun, a middle-aged black witch.

"Show you, hmm? Now now, I believe our best duelers are Potter and Malfoy..." Fenwick pointed her cane at them. "You two, come up and demonstr―"

Mr. Potter cut Fenwick off. "No. I already know what Al can do, and he had better avoid any more broken arms...I would rather see someone else. Are there any of you who want to become aurors?"

Scorpius sat back, his quill and parchment like a comforting shield between him and the kindly, yet intimidating Head Auror. Several other students raised their hands eagerly.

"Five in one class? That's promising!" said Mr. Potter. He rubbed the short black beard on his chin as he looked them over. "How many of you are Gryffindors?"

Only Mabeuf Fortescue lowered his hand. Mr. Potter turned to him. "I recognize you...I think you play Seeker for Hufflepuff? Is it Fortescue?"

Fortescue nodded. "Yes sir, I'm not as good a Seeker as Lily..."

"Well, it's rare for Hufflepuffs to join the aurors, but when they do fight, it seems to me that they always do it for the right reasons. Will you show us a bit of what Professor Fenwick has taught you? And..." he picked out a Gryffindor, "what's your name?"

"I'm Divya Narayanan, Mr. Potter."

He beckoned her forward. "Disarm. Go."

"_Expelliarmus_!" Fortescue began.

Narayanan blocked it with "_Protego_," then quickly followed her shield spell with "_petrificus totalus_."

She missed, Fortescue having jumped to the side.

Fortescue tried to disarm again. As she cast another shield, Narayanan began stepping forward, perhaps trying to corner Fortescue, but he summoned his bag from his desk, letting books and parchment flutter out of it as it flew between the duelers. Amid the distraction, he cast Expelliarmus nonverbally. Unable to see or hear the spell coming, Narayanan failed to block it and her wand abandoned her.

"Pretty good!" Mr. Potter said. "Narayanan, your shield spells were excellent―fast and powerful. That's a useful skill. Your friends will want to stand by you if they're threatened! Fortescue, you used a clever strategy, and it isn't easy to disarm nonverbally."

"Unfortunately," Mr. Potter continued, "a shield spell isn't any good against the killing curse, and you won't be able to strategize if you're under the Cruciatus or Imperius―which is what I'm here to teach about."

The class was at the edge of their seats.

"In most situations, if you think a wizard intends to kill you, avoid him. An invisibility cloak can be extremely useful, as well as various protective charms or enchantments that we don't have time to discuss. If it comes to confrontation, disarm your enemy first, or run. If you get behind something―a large physical barrier like a wall or a statue―it can block the killing curse. The barrier will be demolished if the curse hits it, but it can give you time."

To stave off the image of a young Harry Potter hiding behind shelves in the Department of Mysteries while Grandfather Malfoy cast curses, Scorpius focused on taking notes, copying down the important points of Mr. Potter's lecture.

Narayanan asked, "Mr. Potter, how did you survive the curse when you were only a baby? I know you might not remember..."

"Someone always asks that." Mr. Potter smiled. "It's difficult to explain, but the important thing is that love is stronger than hate. You see, Voldemort was not planning to kill my mother―I know this from Severus Snape, who was a spy at the time―Voldemort was there to kill me, and would have let her live, but she knowingly, willingly stood to defend me. The strength of her love, and the sacrifice of her life, somehow stayed with me and protected me. That's not easily duplicated; obviously you can't plan for someone to do that for you. But, love is always a power worth consideration." Mr. Potter paused. "I believe that covers defense against the killing curse for today, unless there are any other questions."

Al raised his hand, but Mr. Potter deliberately ignored it, saying, "The Cruciatus―"

"Dad, how did you survive when Voldemort hit you with the killing curse in the forest on―"

"Al, it's too complicated for―"

"―the night you destroyed him? Is it really too complicated for a class of seventh years? It seems like an incredibly important thing to know, if it saved lives."

Murmurs slid among the students. "Did the curse really hit him? My uncle said he was just pretending to be dead..."

Harry Potter scowled at his son. "You have already asked that and I have already told you I can't explain it. Maybe the sacrifices of others, like Mad-Eye Moody, or Dumbledore, protected me again."

Al shook his head. "Voldemort wouldn't have been planning to spare them, so it doesn't cohere that they could make the same kind of sacrifice as Grandma Potter. I get the impression that when you say you 'can't' explain it, you mean you don't think people ought to know."

"I think that Professor Dumbledore set things in motion before his death, and with his death, that allowed us to defeat Voldemort. The magic he arranged, I don't fully understand."

Scorpius couldn't see a lie in Mr. Potter's eyes as he spoke, but if anyone was a better Occlumens than Scorpius, it was Harry Potter.

"Then we should try to understand, Dad!" persisted Al.

"Albus, drop it." Mr. Potter's tone of authority rendered the room very quiet. "Moving on to the Cruciatus curse: I hope none of you ever see it or experience it. It can be blocked by an aggressive countercurse. Any questions?"

After a pause, Mr. Potter relaxed and said, almost apologetically, "Really? No questions? Then, we'll discuss the Imperius curse, which is different from the others because it can be fought once you are hit with it. It's extremely strong, so you ought to understand and practice a few things long before a situation threatens you.

"First, know yourself," Mr. Potter stated. Scorpius copied it down. "Know what you like to do and who you want to become. Know what you believe is right and valuable. Then, if you find yourself wanting to do something that you never thought you would want to do, be careful. Ask yourself why you want to do it, and if you can't come up with a good answer, fight it."

"Second, those who can resist the Imperius Curse have a strong will and self control."

_'Self Control'_, Scorpius wrote down, though he supposed that these were things one didn't learn just by taking notes.

Mr. Potter sat against Fenwick's desk as he kept talking. "It's hard to say exactly how to develop willpower, but I can tell you a few things not to do. Avoid things that weaken your self control. If you drink anything stronger than butterbeer, do so in moderation. It might seem unrelated, but if you get in the habit of giving up some of your self control, it becomes much easier for someone to take it away from you completely.

"Likewise, don't overuse things like cheering charms, calming draughts, or felix felicis. For goodness' sake, don't let anyone give you a love potion if you can help it―but there are other reasons for that!"

Mabeuf Fortescue asked, "If people who have been controlled by magic in the past are easier to take control of, sir, wouldn't being put under the Imperius Curse itself weaken us?"

Mr. Potter nodded. "You're wondering why we want to expose you to the Imperius Curse now? Will it weaken you? Very minimally, if at all. You see, a dark wizard would have you under the curse for months, but I'll only do it for thirty seconds. Today you are going to know exactly when the spell starts and ends, so you will be able to recognize the feeling. Also, if you watch each other very closely, you may notice a subtle blankness in people's expressions, especially the eyes, and if you can learn to recognize someone who is acting under the Imperius, that's a great skill. Professor Fenwick and I agree that the experience is to your advantage, but even so, this curse is a serious thing and you are all free to pass if you don't feel comfortable. Don't think we expect you to do this, and please don't pressure each other."

Albus shot Scorpius a glance. Scorpius trusted that Al wouldn't tease him for not participating...at least not much...and Rose certainly wouldn't tease, though she might silently disapprove...but there was also Ted, who often laughed at Scorpius.

"As you know," explained Mr. Potter, "this curse is as illegal as it gets. I'm doing it now only with your permission; Madame Calhoun and Mr. Lupin are here to see that I don't do anything cruel or unusual, you are of age, you're aware that it will last only thirty seconds, and I'll tell you exactly what I will try to make you do." Mr. Potter motioned to Ted, who brought two small buckets up to Professor Fenwick's desk and took their lids off. Scorpius watched warily.

Mr. Potter pointed to one. "This is itch powder. I'll have you put your hand in it. It feels awful, and no one in their right mind would do it, but if you're fully under the Imperius you won't care. This other bucket has soothing potion that will heal you completely. Then I'll release the spell. Madame Calhoun, am I forgetting anything?"

She shook her head, "No, I would call that a full disclosure."

"Good. Let's get the forms signed and start."

Madame Calhoun and Professor Fenwick levitated a host of little green slips of parchment on to the students' desks.

Scorpius scanned over the agreement, undecided. At the bottom of the parchment he could sign his willingness to participate, or his refusal. Scorpius was far from comfortable about it. Would people respect him more if he did it, though? Even if no one said anything out loud, Scorpius didn't want to be seen as a coward. Also, he reasoned, it was a once-in-a-lifetime academic experience, to know what the Imperius curse felt like. He determined to try, and signed the form.

Students began standing in front one by one. Mr. Potter said, "_Imperio_," and with blank, happy expressions most of them immersed their hands in the itch powder, watched contentedly as their fingers swelled, dipped their hands in the soothing potion, and then went back to their seats looking bewildered. Rose hesitated, and she frowned and blew on her fingers, which she had only barely dipped in the powder. Al looked from his dad to the bucket of itch powder twice, reached for it, but then, with a jolt, knocked it out over the floor.

"You broke it! The curse, I mean. We can repair the powder bucket...Well done, Al."

On his way to his seat, Al nudged Scorpius' shoulder. "Easy," he whispered.

Scorpius stood and walked forward. He locked his emotions and controlled his mind, as he would when doing Occlumency. He was simply a student. Mr. Potter was simply a teacher. There was no fear. There was no scar across Draco Malfoy's chest from the curse Harry Potter had once used when desparately trying to block the Cruciatus curse...or if there was, it had nothing to do with Scorpius.

He faced the room and nodded confidently.

Mr. Potter looked over the top of his glasses for a moment. He shrugged, then said, "_Imperio_."

While Scorpius waited for the curse to take effect, he looked at the bucket of crab-red powder.

_Put your hand in the powder_... a voice said. It was a good idea―Scorpius figured that if he did it of his own choice, he would essentially have defied the curse.

As he reached for it, the color reminded him of the red of little June Nott's lipstick...Scorpius laughed, and sang aloud a phrase from one of her Beatles CDs.

"He wear no shoeshine, he got toe-jam football  
He got monkey finger, he shoot coca-cola..."

When he had first heard those lyrics, Scorpius had thought they were nonsense, but today they seemed deeply logical. People were laughing, which was great. He was aware of a pleasant tingling sensation on his fingers, and smiled at Mr. Potter. He had said this would feel awful―he had been joking! What a nice, funny man Mr. Potter actually must be.

"...He say, 'I know you, you know me.'  
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free!"

_Rinse your hand in the potion_... the voice directed, and Scorpius obeyed. The soothing feeling was even nicer than the tingling.

The next moment Scorpius realized that he objected to the laughter, that it was ridiculous to have sung in front of the class, and although his brain had only been conscious of a mild, pleasant feeling from the powder, the nerves in his fingers recalled a fiery itch. He hadn't defied the curse at all―but he hadn't exactly felt the blissful emptiness that Fenwick had told them to expect, either. Embarrassed and confused, he started to walk to his seat.

"Mr. Malfoy, where did that singing come from?" Madame Calhoun asked.

"It's a song that some first years listen to a lot...I think I just forgot that everyone was listening."

She inquired, "Did a voice tell you to sing?"

"No," Scorpius answered.

Mr. Potter verified, "He did that himself."

When the class was dismissed, Fortescue commented in his good-natured Hufflepuff way, "I never knew you were such a good singer, Malfoy. You could perform for parties or things."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. He was a classical musician, never a cheap party entertainer.

Rose laughed, but her eyes had a friendly sparkle that brushed away Scorpius' annoyance.

Al regarded Scorpius with interest, saying, "You did something weird, Scor. Your eyes didn't look distant like everyone else's, and you acted like yourself, but less self-conscious. If you slipped out of the curse, and then put your hand in the powder anyway just to be cheeky, then that was brilliant..."

"No, I was definitely under the curse, but it didn't feel like...well, what did it feel like to you?" Scorpius asked as he lingered with them in the corridor outside the classroom.

"Peaceful, but kind of like I was looking at the world from the inside of a plastic cup," said Al.

"I would describe it as dreamlike, and thoughtless," added Rose with a shudder. "I couldn't reason at all."

"The sounds in the room were all muffled, except Mr. Potter's voice in my head," said Fortescue.

Scorpius hesitated but told them, "I heard the voice, but I didn't...I didn't feel like that. I still thought and reasoned, it was just faulty..."

The aurors came out of the classroom. Ted waved to Scorpius, Al and Rose.

"Thanks, Beatrice. You're teaching them well!" said Mr. Potter to Professor Fenwick. "I had better hurry back to headquarters―"

"Oh no you don't!" interrupted Madame Calhoun. "You're having dinner with your family in Hogsmeade, Harry. Everything is arranged."

"Not this time, Nina. With the issues that came up this morning...I've already told Ginny I wouldn't make it."

"Yes, you sent her a patronus at 10:20, and then she flooed the fire in my office because she couldn't get through to yours, and I promised her you would be there."

Mr. Potter laughed. "Alright, but would you respond to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as soon as you get back?"

"Don't worry about a thing."

"The only thing I'll worry about is that kid wanting to know more than he should." Mr. Potter said, looking at Al. "Al, Rose, you're planning on coming to The Three Broomsticks, right?"

"Yes," said Rose.

Then, unexpectedly, Mr. Potter added, "Fortescue, Malfoy, would you like to join us?"

Fortescue agreed readily. Scorpius fumbled for an excuse, and said, "I have a lot of Transfiguration homework...I told my friend Zivian Zonko I would do it with her."

Al and Rose shook their heads. They both knew Scorpius had finished his Transfiguration essay that morning.

"We won't mind if you bring homework with you, Malfoy. Come. I'd like to talk to you about something."

o.o.o.o

"Are you bringing warm cloaks? You should―it's windy," said Scorpius.

"Oh we forgot," said Nott. "I'll run and get yours, Em, and Alexis!"

Nott hurried toward the girl's dormitory. Scorpius still had the Beatles' song 'Come Together' running in his head.../He roller coaster He got early warning He got muddy water...

"Did my uncle Harry invite you, Scorpius, or actually was it Al's idea?" asked Emilia.

"Mr. Potter asked me to come. I'm not sure why."

"Al said, in the summertime when he invited you to his house, you were nervous about the grown-ups, that's why you didn't come."

Scorpius pursed his lips.

"Are you nervous any more now?" she asked.

Scorpius answered, "No."

"That's good, 'cause I know they're nicest to everyone."

She bounced happily and took hold of his arm. Across the common room, Zivian raised an eyebrow.

When Nott returned with the girls' cloaks, Emilia was in a hurry to meet her family, and she literally dragged the others through the dungeon corridors.

"Come on, Scorpius, don't be slow!" Emilia cried.

Scorpius sighed. "If I tell you a secret, Emilia, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Yeah, I won't even tell Rose."

"No, especially not Rose."

"What is it the secret?"

"I _am_ a bit nervous."

Nott looked at Scorpius with wide eyes and whispered, "Me too."

In the Entrance Hall, Professor Vector stood with her arms folded. The group of students was getting too excited for her equilibrium. "Miss Potter, what is that in your pocket?" Vector asked.

"Just a snitch, Professor," said Lily, holding it up. While Hugo attempted to snatch it from her, Roxanne pick-pocketed Hugo and then stealthily passed his miniature planetary model to Lysander Scamander.

From the other side of the Hall, a trio of Hufflepuff students arrived. Fortescue strode out first, then Dolohov held the door open for Molly and she gave him a reassuring nod. _That's all of us_, Scorpius thought, _Nott, Dolohov, and Malfoy. What does Harry Potter want with us?  
_  
Mr. Potter, along with Professor Weasley, approached from the marble staircase. "This looks like everyone!" said Mr. Potter cheerfully. "Ron and Ginny will be waiting, so let's go!"

Professor Vector commented, "I remember a year when you weren't allowed to go on the regular Hogsmeade trips yourself, Mr. Potter. Now you insist on taking half the school out on a weeknight...but, if Hermione is going too I trust they'll all get back at a reasonable time."

o.o.o.o

Scorpius followed along next to Al, trying not to look awkward, and holding his cloak tightly to stop it from flapping in the brisk wind. Rose was ahead of them, walking and talking with Mabeuf Fortescue, which made Scorpius feel ill. The Three Broomsticks was ready for the group, with six large tables reserved near the fire. Ginny Potter and Ron Weasley were already there with two house-elves: Kreah, and the Potter's elf, Reg.

"Master," squeaked Reg as he ran to Mr. Potter, "We heard from Cherry that they charm their own bleu cheese here. May we please be going to the kitchens to see?"

Mrs. Potter said, "I told him to wait until you came..."

"Certainly! In fact, I'd like to see myself. Al, come with us," said Mr. Potter, looking very pointedly at Scorpius. Scorpius followed, grateful that at least Mr. Potter had found a discrete way to step away from the group, instead of announcing, 'Scorpius Malfoy, I have something sinister to interrogate you about...'

"Bleu cheese, eh, Reg?" Al remarked. "You were making delicious cheddar last summer."

Reg beamed with pride. "I is ready to try something new!"

Kreah hissed, "Say, I _am _ready."

Al said, "Trying new things is excellent. It would be boring to keep making _Reg_-ular cheese."

Reg grinned as he pushed open the kitchen door. "I is not boring, _Owl_-bus."

Mr. Potter joined in with, "I'm sure Al wouldn't expecto anything else."

Scorpius smiled reluctantly. He braced himself; when talking with a legilimens like Harry Potter, he was going I have a hard time keeping all of Al's secrets as well as his own. To help hide his thoughts, he allowed the Beatles to rock and roll loudly in the front of his mind.

"Dad," Al demanded when the elves had gone into the kitchen, and Scorpius was standing with the two Potters in a small passage just outside the kitchen doorway, "either you told me, or I read somewhere, that a skilled dark wizard can use the Imperius curse subtly. They can cast it so that the victim doesn't seem so puppet-like, or even so that they can't feel it but are still helpless to resist the cursor's commands."

"Yes..." said Mr. Potter.

"If you could do that, you wouldn't try it on a student would you?"

Scorpius kicked Al's foot, but the damage was done.

"I would not _try_ to do it, and I have never done anything close to it before today," Mr. Potter answered, then addressed Scorpius, "I've been coming to Defence classes at Hogwarts for quite a few years. I always perform the curse simply and bluntly, perhaps because I don't enjoy it. I've noticed that some students are easier to control than others, but I've never had anyone take to the curse so...so naturally. It worried me, in fact, and I wanted to talk to you about it, Malfoy."

"Oh," said Scorpius stupidly, "that's strange...but it does happen to other people?"

"It happens, when a very powerful dark wizard wants someone to go about their normal lives unsuspiciously, but wants to manipulate certain things that the person does. But why could I do something so close to it to you without effort?"

"I don't know, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Potter took off his glasses and pretended to wipe them on his scarf, scrutinizing Scorpius. "Tell me, are there mind-altering spells or substances that you use frequently?"

"No," answered Scorpius confidently. He didn't do anything like that.

Mr. Potter sighed. "That's too bad, because the next most likely explanation is that you've been put under the Imperius curse before."

"What? No, I haven't, sir."

"Well, you would hardly know, would you, if it was done subtly, or if it happened before you can remember?"

Scorpius frowned. _Who would have put the Imperius curse on me as a small child?_

Mr. Potter raised his eyebrows as if to say, '_who indeed?'_

Scorpius was positive that his parents would never do such a thing. He specifically remembered having been very spoiled and adored as a child. His grandparents had too much respect for everything Malfoy to curse their own heir, and since his rooms were on the opposite corner of the mansion from theirs, they would never have been bothered by his noises.

"Is your father still good friends with Gregory Goyle?"

"Not really. He's spent too much time in Azkaban to be respectable company."

"Of course."

Al questioned, "What are the other possible causes, Dad?"

"There could be some other type of magic influencing him. Can you recall anything strange happening to you―anyone putting an unknown spell on you...any intelligent objects that you rely on emotionally...? If you can remember being bewitched or manipulated magically, we could attempt to undo the damage."

Scorpius didn't remember anything suspicious.

"I could examine your memories, but that might be uncomfortable..."

"No thank you."

"What else?" asked Al.

"The only other problem would be his character...or lack of character. I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but your vulnerability is a danger to yourself and others. If I were you, I would try to fix it."

Scorpius agreed, but... "How, Mr. Potter?"

"Practice self-control, and have very clear goals and priorities."

"Alright...goals and priorities..."

"Yes. Know what you're willing to fight for."

Scorpius was quiet.

"Malfoy, do you know what side you're on?"

"Side of what, sir? Is a war beginning?"

"Always." Mr. Potter said gruffly. "Every crime, every argument, every rumor, are the seeds of a war. My job is to dig them out before they do much damage, and if you knew how busy I am, you would know that there is _always_ a war beginning..."

Scorpius thought that seemed a grim way of looking at the world.

"...but more significantly," continued Mr. Potter, "there is an ongoing war between good and evil in the hearts of individuals. You have to know what you're willing to fight for."

Scorpius knew what his own father would say; _...I hesitate to say what is right or wrong, or if there is even a distinction...Don't make enemies. Don't choose sides..._

"You do know, Scor, don't you?" Al prompted.

"Well, I wouldn't fight for evil."

"Hmm." Mr. Potter looked unsatisfied, but he didn't pursue the topic. "Let's go sit down, unless you actually want to see the cheese-making..."

No sooner had Scorpius gotten away from Mr. Potter and taken a breath of relief than Professor Weasley found him and pulled him aside.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you taken a look at the next section in the Calculeux textbook?"

"About angles, Professor?"

"Yes. Did you notice that it mentions your manor house?"

"Oh, yes. I knew the manor had some Arithmancy in the architecture..."

"Then you don't mind if I mention it in class?"

"No, I don't mind," he told her as they returned to the tables.

Among the riotous Weasley cousins, Scorpius found himself mercifully overlooked. He ate quietly and listened while Rose's dad asked Harry Potter about the issues that had kept him busy that morning.

"Have you discovered anything new here around Hogsmeade?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"No, but we are keeping a patrol here, and tripling it at times when danger is likely. The problems this morning were from Knocturn Alley, and then a cryptic patronus message, and the usual pestering from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"What happened in Knocturn Alley?" asked Professor Weasley.

"There were multiple break-ins during the night. The shopkeepers there rarely report anything to us, but this time someone was scared enough that they came―" Mr. Potter paused to catch Lily's snitch as it flitted past his head, then he tossed it back toward her table. "―No one we talked to would say what was stolen, meaning it was illegal goods that they shouldn't have had in the first place. None of the residents we tried to interview were very friendly or open, and we even had to make a couple of arrests for aggressive behavior. It looked like the thieves, whoever they were, had skillfully forced their way through some nasty defensive barriers the shopkeepers had set up. It's hard to gather evidence, but it's a trail we'll have to keep following."

"I'm sure you'll catch them, Uncle Harry!" asserted Lucy.

Mr. Weasley smirked, "...and Knockturn Alley will enjoy its usual peace and innocence again."

"What about the patronus message?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"It was mysterious," said Mr. Potter; "it arrived early in the morning, a faint little bird patronus, that seemed like it had traveled a very long way. Its English was hard to understand and its message was fragmented, but it said something about refugees on an island, traveling to get outside the range of a taboo. It seemed to be asking for help."

"From our Auror department?" asked Al, looking up from the game of empty-mug-polo that he, Hugo, and the Scamander twins had invented (a coaster was floating an inch above the table, and their butterbeer mugs were carrying spoons like mallets, trying to knock the coaster past each other.)

"Actually, it addressed itself to 'Potter Harry Who Lived'." Mr. Potter admitted with a sigh. "I wish I could help them, but I have no idea where they are, and goodness knows we have our own problems here."

"You do enough," his wife told him affectionately.

"Hey people!" Hugo said suddenly, "did anyone see my orrery fall out of my pocket? It's missing!"

Roxanne cocked her head innocently. "Your what?"

"Orrery. Planetary model."

"Oh, was that yours? I'm sorry," Dolohov apologized. "Lily handed it to me and said to pass it on, so I gave it to Emilia..."

Emilia whispered to Dolohov, "That's not how you play the game, Tony! Don't tell!"

"Who has it now?" Hugo asked loudly, over the laughter.

They kept laughing.

Professor Weasley pulled out her wand. "_Accio orrery_," she said, and the brass model flew out of the hood of Nott's cloak.

Nott shrieked in surprise and blushed. "I didn't put it there! I didn't know―"

Chuckling joyfully, Emilia grabbed Nott in a hug. "I put it there June, you silly you didn't even notice!"

o.o.o.o

"Go Ravenclaw, come on Lucy! Go Gryffindor, fly faster Hugo!" cheered Emilia as she waved a red flag in one hand and a blue flag in the other. She and her friends had enthusiastically created flags and banners for the Slytherin students to hold. Some of the Slytherins were only holding blue, true to their traditional rivalry with Gryffindor, but a majority of the house followed Emilia's lead and cheered for both sides. They acted like rebels, tossing aside an essential element of sport as they refused to care who scored. They laughed at the quizzical looks from the teacher and parent spectators' box and made a lot of noise for no reason at all.

Scorpius himself had brought a library book about the alchemical properties of gold to look through during the game. …_the powers of gold can be elusive…,_ he read. Distracted, he looked up to watch the Seekers. Lily Potter was taking a defensive approach, which was unusual for her. She drifted around the pitch, staying close to her opponent, Zhi Chang, in case he saw the snitch and went into a chase. A few times, Scorpius spotted the tiny gold ball and was surprised that Lily hadn't seen it yet herself.

Sebastian Seonnay said aloud, "t'will be a long match if Potter does nay begin playing."

At that moment, Chang accelerated. He was after the snitch, but Lily was right beside him.

"They're off!" announced Lorcan Scamander, "Chang and Potter are heading toward the lower north side of the pitch, racing for the gold."

Scorpius watched Chang and Lily push at each other forcefully as they sped through the air.

"And Hugo Weasley is about to score again," called Lysander, "watch out—it's in! The score is Gryffindor 30, Ravenc—"

"Ohhh they're closing in!" Lorcan interrupted. "And the snitch goes to…what…did they both miss it?"

Their fingers had been inches from the snitch, and it had looked like Lily would get it, when she suddenly had shoved Chang to the side and rolled on her broom to avoid touching the ball. When Chang re-oriented himself the snitch was gone.

Zivian snorted, annoyed that the match hadn't been concluded. "Potter fumbled. Must have gotten too excited."

"No, I think she did it on purpose," Scorpius sighed as he realized what Lily was up to. "Potter's not just trying to win the match. She's working on winning the cup. We won with 180 points last month, so she'll wait until her chasers have scored more than 30 points before she catches the snitch. For now she's just making sure Chang doesn't get it."

Emilia piped up, "Lily might wait out she told me she might do it, but she promised to finish the game before three o'clock so we can go learn repetitive motion charming."

"Repetitive motion?" Cristine Burke repeated incredulously, "That's learned in sixth year, Emmie. I have just started that."

"I know," agreed Emilia. "Mum says it's everyday really useful, so important for making chores do themselves, so we will get a head start. You can all come together!"

"You're not going to that again, are you, rich boy?" Zivian asked.

"No, I'm actually going to meet with Albus Potter to study some alchemy," Scorpius answered, showing her the book. She rolled her eyes.

When Gryffindor finally won with 200 points to Ravenclaw's 20, Emilia was delighted—and with her in their midst, the rest of Slytherin was much happier than they might have been.

o.o.o.o

"Dippet, please define an enchantment for us," Professor Weasley requested at the beginning of Arithmancy class.

"An enchantment is a bewitchment or group of charms that is set permanently on an object by inscribing the incantation on the object...or something like that."

"Yes, that is the idea. We already know that a straight line directs magical energy, whether from an enchanted object, or from a raw, incantationless magical source such as a magical plant or creature. In today's lesson, we will ask what geometric angle supports the most enchantment, or holds the most magical stability over time. Let's do a simple experiment to get an idea."

She put on her desk four wood objects, each with a flat base, a thin stalk in the middle that pointed upward, and a platform on top. They were identical except that each one's stalk pointed up at a different angle.

Then she pointed to a box on the floor that held lead blocks.

"Those will be set on top. I need four of you...Poe, Malfoy, Narayanan, and Allegri..." (She was choosing the students that participated the least) "...to each choose one of the angle models, and balance weights on top of them one by one until they fall or break."

Coming up from the back, Scorpius had last pick, and had to take the model that was sure to lose first. Its stalk pointed backward, at about a 120 degree angle from the base, so the first block he set on top of it made it fall over.

"Mr. Malfoy has shown us that obtuse angles, this one 120 degrees, support the lowest capacity. Watch the others," said Weasley.

Tino Allegri levitated five weights from the box on to the end of his hairpin-angled model before it cracked at the corner and broke. "Snappy snappy," he said.

"The 10 degree angle failed. Go ahead and repair the model, please, Mr. Allegri, before you put it back in the cupboard...and Mr. Malfoy, put yours away and return to your seat as well. Now we have Mr. Poe's 60 degree angle and Miss Narayanan's 90 degree angle. I suppose you can guess which one will be the strongest?"

There was a murmur of "90 degrees," and Scorpius remembered a rhyme from his childhood; _'A thousand years this plenty keep, Our corners square; not low nor steep.'_ He leaned forward in his seat and whispered it to Al.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Don't remember."

As Poe added weight to his model, it did indeed break, and Narayanan's was left holding the most.

Weasley explained, "And so you see that the right angle proved strongest. We call this the perpendicular capacity principle, and we use it to predict the amounts of charms or enchantments that can be put on objects, without being weakened or warped over time. Tell me some objects in which you might see the perpendicular capacity principle."

Dippet raised her hand. "A box, Professor?"

"Yes, and there have been many enchanted boxes over the ages. Mr. Poe?"

"A mirror..." He said morosely.

"A square, or rectangular mirror. Yes. Miss Narayanan?"

"A doorway or gate."

"Good. Now, try thinking outside the―forgive the pun―outside the box a little."

Rose raised her hand and Scorpius watched the window-sunlight in her red hair as she spoke. "A goblet or grail would have more capacity than a regular cup, because the stem creates right angles with the tangent of the bottom of the cup as well as with the base of the goblet."

Her ideas sounded so sophisticated; _'the tangent of the bottom of the cup as well as with the base..._' Scorpius remembered having once told Rose that her vocabulary was pretty, and she had laughed.

Suddenly Al's hand shot up.

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"Sorry, Professor, but what about the Sorting Hat? I can't think of anything that has held more enchantment for longer, but it doesn't have a single right angle."

"Ah, no, it doesn't. The perpendicular capacity principle is a true principle, but it is not the _only_ true principle. You are getting a bit ahead of the class. The sorting hat is―that is to say, was, before time added tears and wrinkles―a perfect cone. A cone includes a 180 degree line on top of a circle. We will discuss next week that circles have the power to recall, to remember. Lines, as we know, have the power to propel. And so, the Sorting Hat remembers and directs. Over time it has become wrinkled and frayed, giving it creativity of its own. A geometric study of the Hat would be complicated and very interesting, but let's get back to right angles. Can anyone think of an object that contains many right angles?"

"A net or screen?" asked Allegri.

"Hmm, I think a net is too fluid; the angles would not always be 90 degrees, but good thinking, Mr. Allegri."

Scorpius thought...a piano. He smiled to himself but didn't raise his hand. What else? a chessboard? a bookshelf? Then he thought of something Grandfather Malfoy had once mentioned. _'It was just the beginning of how the Dark Lord wronged our family.'_ Grandfather had said bitterly. Scorpius raised his hand.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"A book, Professor."

Both Al and Rose turned and looked at Scorpius as they realized what he was talking about―a book that had not only safe-guarded a piece of soul, but had held a functional, intelligent memory of a human being.

Weasley nodded. "A book has four right angles on each side of the cover, the spine, each page. Per each hundred pages, four hundred right angles. The text is generally set perpendicular to the side of the page also, and how many lines of text are on each page? You can see how it compounds. Add to that a book's ability to be written in, and I believe a book has the greatest capacity to store magic of any small object." Professor Weasley hesitated, then said with effort, "good thinking, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin."

"More ideas?" she prompted. "Mr. Potter?"

"How about a building, like a castle?"

"Definitely. A castle, a pyramid...Wizards have been using the right angles of our structures to hold powerful enchantments for ages. Perhaps the most famous example of the intentional use of this principle is the Malfoy Manor." Weasley said, giving Scorpius a brief nod. "The eleventh century architecture uses a complex series of carefully composed right angles, enchanted in a design to retain prosperity, power, wealth..."

Tino Allegri tisked loudly and turned to give Scorpius a disapproving expression. Scorpius clenched his fists under his desk.

"Five points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Allegri," said Weasley coolly, and continued, "History has shown the lasting strength of the Malfoy's enchantments, whether for better or worse. Many arithmancers have attempted to analyze and imitate Malfoy Manor, without success. Those are sufficient examples for now. Let's examine the numerological reasoning. Why would this perpendicular capacity principle apply to objects holding enchantments?"

The class was silent. Scorpius tried to think...why would an object with right angles hold magic better or longer than any other object?

Al raised his hand.

"I think it must be the balance, Aunt―Professor. Perpendicular lines have 90 degrees on all corners, and a grouping of 90 degree angles will automatically match up with each other. That balance, having the same value on both sides, would mean that all the strain goes directly down into the object itself rather than pushing to one side or the other. A large amount of power could be piled together. Over time, the charm or enchantment would just settle in, not wear out."

"Exactly, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor." Weasley said proudly. Then Rose raised her hand as well.

"Just to add to what Al said, when you graph two perpendicular lines, the slopes of the lines will always be the negative reciprocals of each other." Rose leaned forward, explaining, "For example, the line y=2x forms right angles with the line y= -1/2x, and y=3/5x forms right angles with y= -5/3x. That shows the balance: top, bottom; positive, negative. If you multiply them together, they always equal negative one. In perfect balance like that, an enchantment on an object, even a top-heavy enchantment, would never be pulled too far to one side or the other. It would be stable."

_How did she manage to be such a genius?_

Weasley smiled, trying not to look too pleased with her own daughter. "Ten points for Ravenclaw too. Everyone take out graphing parchment; we are going to plot a few perpendicular lines so you can see the negative reciprocal slopes."

They worked for the rest of the period, Weasley assigned homework, and class was dismissed.

After reporting to Professor Weasley that Emilia was doing well, Scorpius left the classroom. His mind was aching.

**Notes:**

**To answer some questions: Lorcan and Lysander Scamander are the twin sons of Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander, so they are close friends of the Potters. Mabeuf Fortescue is a character I invented, but he is the grand-nephew of Florean Fortescue who owned the ice-cream parlor in Diagon Alley (and was killed by Death Eaters for siding with Dumbledore and knowing too much).**


	9. Nor Both Together

**9\. Nor Both Together**

"Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius."

-Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

* * *

Scorpius finished his pumpkin juice, glanced in his bag to be sure that the letter from his mother was still tucked between his textbooks, and hurried out of the Great Hall from lunch. As he was crossing the Entrance Hall, an unfamiliar Gryffindor student ran ahead of him and a golden galleon bounced out of her pocket onto the floor. She ran on, and the galleon rolled in an arc, stopping at Scorpius' feet. He thought about calling after her...he thought about just leaving it on the floor...but he picked it up and pocketed it.

After continuing up the staircase, Scorpius caught himself. A galleon was a small thing, but this was just the sort of situation that had been bothering him since Professor Weasley had described Malfoy Manor as "enchanted in a design to retain prosperity, power, wealth..."

Money _came_ to the Malfoys. Scorpius' parents hadn't chosen their careers for the money, and they didn't work particularly hard, but they were both paid extremely well. They enjoyed gambling on occasion and always made a profit. People gave them gifts, bribes, and awards for trivial reasons. Scorpius hadn't thought about it much before, but he had begun to wonder what price they paid for their wealth. Possibly, it was a portion of their freedom.

Scorpius had heaps of gold in his own personal Gringotts account, and that was a small account compared to the family treasury he would inherit. The galleon he had just picked up would mean more to anyone else in the castle than it would to him. Scorpius took it from his pocket and flicked it away.

"Malfoy? I think you dropped a coin," said a hesitant voice. It was Scrivenshaft, walking up from an adjoining corridor.

Scorpius' hand itched to take it again, but he shook his head. "Not mine. You have it." Then he turned quickly and headed for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

In spite of the noon hour, a red sunset was sinking quickly over the Chamber of Discoveries as Scorpius flew in. Rose was sitting behind a barricade of library books, looking frustrated. The sky darkened, and she lit her wand to read by. Albus was adjusting the cylestiander—the device with rotating model sun and moon, that was now connected to the ceiling of the chamber. He could set it to any time of day, month or year, and the skyscape on the ceiling would match.

"Winter solstice, and a new moon," Al murmured. Al's cauldron, sitting over a block of ice, appeared to be embroidered in crystals of frost. Scorpius watched Al carefully measure and pour sand into the cauldron. Then Al looked up at Scorpius and asked, "are you ready to present your arithmancy project?"

"No. I'm starting over on something different." Scorpius answered.

"What? You're abandoning the golden instrument?" Al asked, and Rose also looked with curiosity at Scorpius.

"Making the instrument would be more fun, but I think I ought to resolve the enchantment on Malfoy Manor, and that's more arithmancy-focused anyway."

Rose inquired, "what do you mean by 'resolve'?"

"To understand it, at least, but ultimately I'd like to break it...I think."

Rose looked surprised.

"Do you suspect that it's made from dark magic?" Al asked.

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't like the idea of being bound by it. Sure, I don't mind being wealthy or successful, but I would rather accomplish things myself, not rely on some magical architecture. Al...your dad asked if I was under any unusual spells, or relied on any magical objects. Don't you think this might be the cause of my weird reaction to the Imperius curse?"

Al nodded. "Now that you put the two together, it certainly seems like a possibility, though my impression was that it was caused by your music."

Scorpius snorted. "Music, weaken me to the Imperius curse? How?"

"It affects your mood, like a cheering charm, and you rely on it to some degree. You often turn on something to listen to when you want to feel a certain way."

Rose lowered her book. "I don't think that would have a significant effect, Al. Many people listen to music, and everyone reacts to it, whether they're musicians themselves or not..."

Scorpius nodded.

She continued, "...the fact that Scorpius is a musician means he understands why and how music affects people—the beat and dynamics and things—and it also means he has exercised self-control in practicing regularly. If anything, I think it would be a strength against the Imperius curse."

Scorpius felt flattered, until she said, "My best guess before was that his problem had to do with his personality, but Uncle Harry said he has never seen anything like it before, which suggests that it's something really unique and deeply magical. Plenty of the teenagers Uncle Harry has imperiused listened to music, and plenty of them probably had..." she paused as if searching for tactful wording. "...unclear goals or conflicting expectations for themselves. How many were raised in enchanted manor houses, though?" She jumped up and stepped around her pile of books. "Scorpius, what information do you have about this enchantment? It's format? It's effects?"

Staring down at the hand that had recently picked up the fallen galleon, Scorpius reflected, "I think it pushes us to take money, accept money, be in the right place at the right time—or the wrong place at the wrong time, sometimes, but wherever the gold is. Because the enchantment is built out of right angles, I suspect that it keeps us from leaning too far toward any extremes, politically or socially."

"Being Death Eaters wasn't leaning too far?" Al asked.

"Financially speaking."

"Didn't the Manor suffer from being without house-elves, and being used as headquarters by the Death Eaters?" Rose wondered.

"Yes, but not permanently. Being Death Eaters kept the Malfoys on safe terms with a lot of dangerous people, and when my Grandmother lied to Voldemort about your dad being alive, it was just in time to earn the forgiveness of everyone on your side before the war ended. Not only did they avoid being killed or stuck in Azkaban, they also inherited the entire Lestrange fortune, and a share of the Avery's, Crabbe's, Macnair's..."

Al whistled. Scorpius explained, "with so many people in mortal danger, my grandparents tried to get in to as many wills as possible—but if they had turned against the Death Eaters any sooner, they would have been disinherited and lost it all."

Al inquired, "So you think the enchantment hijacks your moral reasoning? That would be as bad as the Imperius."

"Maybe. I can't be sure, since I can't compare my sense of moral reasoning to any other experience."

"Most Malfoys of the past haven't been exemplary," observed Rose.

"A few have been good, though," Scorpius pointed out somewhat defensively, "Remember Bertram Malfoy, who supported Athelweard Peverell and fought against Emeric the Evil?"

"Was he the one who was conveniently unable to attend the Peverell's feast, when Emeric set fiendfire to the dining hall?" Al recalled.

"He was home with an 'ague'..."

"...but his wife's brothers were all killed, so she inherited all of her family's fortune, adding it to the Malfoy estate." Rose finished. "Maybe the enchantment controls circumstances more than people. It could be something like the jinx Voldemort put on the Defence Against the Dark Arts job—each teacher still had their own personality, but events occurred to make them each leave after one year."

Scorpius nodded. "Maybe."

"What do you know about the structure of the enchantment on the manor house?" Rose asked.

"There are runes along some of the walls. I've never paid much attention to them...I asked my mum to send a map from home," he answered, and he opened his bag. Under the starlight and wall-sconces that lit the chamber, he cleared some of Al's experimental clutter from a table and spread out a parchment map.

Rose leaned close. "Repetition in fours...lines of symmetry: north-south and east-west. It looks like this distance matches with these...which multiplies the strength of the outer corners by the strength of these inner wall corners...there seem to be focal points here and here," she said, pointing to the large drawing room on the ground floor and to the observatory on the fourth floor.

"You would be better at this than me, Rose." Scorpius commented. "Do you want to do two arithmancy projects? I could write your History of Magic essays for you."

Rose smiled, but shook her head. "No. This _is_ fascinating, though. Better than any other ideas I've found for my own arithmancy NEWT..."

"Well, I would prefer to make a golden instrument..."

Scorpius and Rose looked at each other for a moment. Al watched them expectantly, but then Rose shook her head. "It's your manor, Scorpius. I wouldn't be able to analyze it properly without going there...and I don't think...your family..."

"They're going to the States for Christmas," Scorpius put in quickly. He was starting to like the idea of turning the manor analysis over to Rose. "My mum wrote that they're going to Las Vegas for three weeks."

"All of them? Without you?" Al asked.

"No—just my parents, and they want me to go along—but I hate Las Vegas. We've been there on holiday before. It's too flashy, and the wizards there are a bit scary."

"Evil?" Al asked.

"Some of them, probably. Not all, but they're generally a bit insane, and I don't understand how they justify having different laws there than everywhere else."

"Different laws?" Rose asked quizzically.

"They don't follow the statute of secrecy."

"What?!"

"They do magic in front of muggles: things like lousy divination, performing animagi and metamorphmagi...muggles pay to see it. Most of it is harmless because the muggles assume it's done by trickery, but still, I felt like all the glamor of downtown Las Vegas was a thin cover for a lot of unhappiness. For example, there was one witch we saw, walking with a stack of magazines, and she suddenly fell backwards, dropped the magazines all over, and sat there staring. Everyone pretended not to notice. Maybe she was under some potion or curse, because she had this look in her eyes—emptiness, despair. It was disturbing."

Rose and Al nodded.

"Once in a while my grandparents seem empty like that, and even my dad, if he isn't keeping himself busy. They surround themselves with glamor, but it doesn't really make them happy. I don't ever want to become like that."

Scorpius realized he was pressing his knuckles hard on the edge of the table, and he relaxed. "Anyway, Mum and Dad will be gone around Christmas, Grandmother will spend a lot of time out shopping or visiting her sister Andromeda, and Grandfather just sits in his armchair. We can easily stay away from him if you come, Rose."

Al was stirring the sand in his frozen cauldron, and adjusting the cylestiander so that the ceiling began to brighten like a wintery dawn. Al smiled and nudged Rose with his elbow. "The design of the Malfoy Manor, Rose—it's one of the most famous arithmantic puzzles in history. I doubt any other arithmancer has been invited in to study it by a Malfoy family member."

Rose spoke to Al doubtfully, "Mum and dad wouldn't like it; they were imprisoned there, remember? And imagine what Grandpa Weasley would think of me walking into Lucius Malfoy's house."

Al responded, "But imagine how happy he would be to see the source of Malfoy wealth and power broken. Wealth is relative, you know; money has to drain from other wizarding families to make the Malfoys rich."

Scorpius appealed, "I don't want that to keep happening. It needs to be solved, and I _really_ think you could do it better than me."

Rose stood gazing at the map on the table for a long moment.

"Yes...I'll do it."

o.o.o.o

Scorpius soared through blustery fall drizzle, toward a flash of gold he had seen above the middle of the Quidditch pitch. Viola Seonnay was attempting to snatch the quaffle from her brother in practice, and the snitch seemed to be buzzing around her.

"Watch out!" Scorpius called as he closed in.

Instead of the snitch, however, he saw that Viola was wearing something gold on a long gold necklace. At the same time, Vaughn Drang shouted from near the ground, "Got it!" He was holding the snitch, and grinning childishly.

Annoyed, Scorpius called, "you're a Chaser, Drang, stop fooling around."

"There is no slander in an allowed fool..." Sebastian muttered. "What were you looking for up here, Malfoy?"

Stifled laughter came from the Erlkonigs, who were batting a bludger between each other.

"Gold," Scorpius answered haughtily, pointing to Viola's necklace. "Maybe you shouldn't wear that on the pitch."

"I always wear it," she answered, but quickly tucked it under her robes. She shouted to Drang, "bring the snitch up, we'll start again."

"Prefect meeting starts in twenty minutes," Scorpius protested.

"'Tis time enough."

Scorpius scowled. Viola ignored him. When Drang flew up with the snitch, Scorpius plucked it away from him with all the disdain he could muster. It was frustrating to keep practicing in bad weather, when he had more important things to work on.

Viola finally dismissed the team, and she, Sebastian, and Scorpius—the three prefects—hurried into the castle. As they walked, Scorpius grabbed a quill and parchment from his bag, transfigured them into a comb and mirror, and flattened his windswept hair.

"Nary a one cares about your hair, Malfoy." Viola huffed impatiently.

"Habit," he replied. He was surprised when she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Why are you mad about my hair?"

"Nay, 'tisn't about your hair! At each quidditch practice of late, you've been another degree indifferent. Ha' you seen Lily Potter? Practicing with a snitch nigh on every day?"

Scorpius responded coldly, "I don't have time for extra practice, but it would help if you didn't wear gold."

"'Twill stay under my robes."

"Why do you have to wear it?"

"'Tis a gift from my Dad's family. A wee sea gold whistle."

Suddenly interested, Scorpius asked, "Sea gold? Like the fiddle, in that poem?"

Sebastian laughed. "Somewhat alike to that."

"May I see it?"

"Nay," Viola said, and quickened her walk to leave Scorpius behind. He followed.

"Can you play it?"

Sebastian laughed again. "Aye, play it, Viola."

"Nay."

Viola threw open the door to the room where prefect meetings were held, and didn't speak to Scorpius again as the meeting began. Professor Vector and the Heads of the four houses—Longbottom, Fenwick, Phrome, and Higgs—made all their usual comments, urged the prefects to keep their house-mates out of trouble and in their dormitories at night, and asked if the prefects had any concerns.

"Yes, I have a concern," Hugo Weasley announced. "My sister, Emmie, needs help in her classes, especially in Potions and Transfiguration. I've been going to Astronomy with the first years to help her, but my own class schedule doesn't give me time to visit her potions class. I think if Professor Clearwater gave Emmie a little more attention, she could learn—"

Mister Higgs interrupted Hugo with a groan. "We've had plenty of discussions in the Faculty room about Miss Weasley. I say we just give her passing marks and not worry about it."

"We have agreed for Miss Weasley to be assessed on meeting her own individual goals, set for her with the consultation of her parents, instead of on meeting all the standard curricula..." Professor Vector explained.

Hugo pressed, "but she's still frustrated—"

Allegri piped, "you mean she doesn't have to learn the same things as everyone else? That's not fair! Hogwarts is supposed to be a prestigious school—if students aren't up to it, they shouldn't stay."

Professor Phrome sniffed in agreement.

Rose blinked. "Hogwarts is a good school," she said, "we value knowledge and learning. Therefore, we should be eager to extend it to everyone. All witches and wizards should be encouraged to achieve their own highest abilities."

"Can a muggle drive three automobiles at once?" Professor Phrome asked. "We teachers are only human."

Al said, "I like it when professors teach fast-paced and focus on advanced material. I can imagine that it would be hard for them to also help Emmie when there is just one Professor and a large class...so Hugo has an excellent idea, going to Astronomy with her. I'm sorry I haven't been helping before, Hugo. I'll tutor her in Potions."

"I'll tutor her in Transfiguration," volunteered Cristine Burke.

"I do believe tutors may help. Let's write it down," said Professor Vector. She drew a chart of Emilia's classes, and passed it first to the Slytherin Prefects. "I would like a list of those who volunteer to tutor in each subject, to show Professor Weasley. Sign up for subjects you feel fully confident in, and it would be advantageous if you can attend the first years' class with Emilia."

Zivian pushed the parchment to Viola, who signed up to help with flying. Sebastian took Charms, then passed the parchment to Scorpius.

Scorpius was free during Emilia's History of Magic class, and although he regretted giving up the free time, and still felt awkward about Emilia's family, he signed up.

The list was full before it got around to the Ravenclaws, with Defense Against the Dark Arts taken by Lily and Herbology by Tony Dolohov. Rose, Molly and Lucy Weasley added their names as substitutes or extra help.

Higgs sat back, satisfied. "That sorts out the Miss Weasley problem," he said tactlessly. "Maybe you should tutor Augustus Erlkonig too, so I can stop hearing teachers complain about him!" Higgs chuckled.

"We probably could," said Scorpius.

"Erlkonig doesn't have a disability," snorted Tino Allegri.

"He doesn't have an obvious disability like Emilia's," Scorpius countered, "but if he needs help, then why not..." He shrugged and trailed off. Rose was giving him a funny look and he thought maybe he should stop talking.

o.o.o.o

After the prefect meeting Scorpius followed Viola to ask about her sea gold whistle.

"I only ken one song, and 'tis nay any good."

"I don't care, I'm just curious about it.

Viola was annoyed. "Fine, Malfoy. I'll play _just _a bit."

She pulled the chain out, and on it a small pipe-shaped whistle. It only had two holes, and as she started to play, Scorpius' first thought was appreciation for how rhythm and articulation could make a lively, twirling melody out of only four notes. Then he tried to identify the time signature—it seemed to switch between 6 and 7 beats per measure. Rose would probably say that it didn't 'make sense'..._oh, Rose... But Rose doesn't want anything more than casual friendship with me. It's probably time to accept it and move on. Viola is an intelligent girl; two years isn't such a big age difference. I like her charisma, and she could be very pretty if she combed out her dread locks...in fact I like the dread locks..."_

"What do you think of The Three Broomsticks?" Scorpius asked aloud.

Viola lowered her whistle and raised her eyebrows.

"I'd like to buy you dinner, next time there's a Hogsmeade trip."

"How now, even so quickly may one catch the plague?" Viola spoke more to her whistle than to Scorpius. She was looking at it with respect.

To Scorpius, she answered with a glint of humor in her eye, "I would nay mind dinner at The Three Broomsticks."

**Notes:**

**Sorry if you love Las Vegas, I just speak (or Scorpius speaks) from my own experience visiting there. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	10. In Some Degree Beneficial

**10\. In Some Degree Beneficial**

"_They are kind—they are the most excellent creatures in the world; but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes..."_

_-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein_

* * *

Scorpius' senses gradually cleared as he and Viola descended the stairs to the dungeon, and by the time they reached the hidden entrance to the common room he understood what had happened. It was quite truly a _Mer_ whistle, possessing exactly the kind of power that he wanted to study, though obviously in a weaker form than the music that could lure sailors overboard or kill lethifins.

He stopped in front of the wall before opening it. "We'll meet on the Hogsmeade trip then, in December?"

"Aye."

"We can talk about how sea gold works...merpeople must get confused often, if their affections change every time someone plays their instrument."

"Oh..." Her face reddened a bit, realizing that he was aware of what had happened. "I think it works differently underwater."

"Really, how?" Scorpius queried.

"I do nay ken. My dad may understand it better. You do nay need to, um, buy dinner for me..."

Scorpius knew that Grandmother Malfoy would consider it terribly improper to rescind an invitation once it had been made (though she never would have extended such courtesies to someone like Viola Seonnay). He politely said, "I already offered. I'll invite some other friends too, and Sebastian could come."

"'Tis fair."

o.o.o.o

Scorpius, Al, and Rose were busy every day. Al had made several more attempts at transforming into his animagus form. He was getting quicker at turning into the owl, and acting calmer as the owl, but still needed Scorpius and Rose to return him back into himself. They found that when he had his wand on him, he transformed more easily but was harder to rein in, so he set it aside when they practiced. They also set the sky to bright daylight, so the nocturnal owl would be less eager to fly.

Al was also still working with his cauldron of sand, setting the skyscape over the Chamber of Discoveries to specific times and weather patterns as he stirred ingredients into it or spoke spells over it.

Scorpius sat in on Emilia's History of Magic class completely un-noticed by Professor Binns. Emilia's own note-taking was ineffective, although she was certainly trying. She would listen to a phrase Binns said and write it down, but while she wrote she would miss the next several sentences of his lecture. She would then look up and listen to the next phrase to copy, so she ended up with fragmented phrases and words that were not necessarily the main points of the lesson. And then, halfway through class, she (along with most of her classmates) would fall asleep. Scorpius had begun writing simplified notes for her, and even drawing some quick pictures to illustrate historical events. Then, in the afternoon he would talk through them with Emilia in the Slytherin common room. The other first years sometimes listened in.

Time was of such scarcity that Scorpius and Rose met in the library in the morning before Transfiguration class one day to talk about Malfoy Manor.

"It's perfectly balanced. That's clear from dimensions on the the map. Every wall has a corresponding wall that is its negative reciprocal." said Rose.

"Negative reciprocals—two values, the slopes, that multiply together to equal negative one," Scorpius recalled.

"Mm hmm. It's one of the dominant features of the architecture here, though I still need to look at the shapes of doorways, positions of windows, building materials, and of course, the runes."

"I'll find an un-suspicious way of asking my mum to send pictures. She can easily take them and develop them herself, being a photographer." Scorpius offered. "I did get her owl yesterday with a copy of the pedigree chart."

Scorpius unrolled the parchment and showed Rose a chart of his Malfoy ancestors, many names in small calligraphy, connected in one long line.

"Isn't it odd that they usually had just one boy? A long time ago they used to also have a daughter or two, but in the 1600s they stopped, and have just had one child since."

"That was about the time when witches started gaining equal inheritance rights in Britain," Rose said, examining the chart.

"Yes. In the case of Castor, after he died of a childhood illness his parents had another boy. So there was still just one heir."

"That would keep the fortune from being split. They never had to give any other inheritance..."

Scorpius nodded. "Only one reciprocal—I mean recipient."

"Reciprocal?" Rose teased, "are you a negative reciprocal or a positive one?"

"Either way, I'm the only one. No competition for the Malfoy gold, but being an only child is boring sometimes."

"I can imagine so...—Oh, we ought to start walking to Transfiguration—You really plan to break this enchantment, then?"

Scorpius gave Rose the pedigree and stood up. "Yes. The more I think about it, the more I want to get out of it."

They exited the library, and were met in the corridor by Mr. Weasley and Kreah.

"Hi Dad, hi Kreah!" said Rose.

Mr. Weasley pointedly ignored Scorpius. "I thought I might find you in the library, Rose. I didn't see you at breakfast."

"We ate early so we could come work on Arithmancy. Now we're going to Transfiguration. Are you going back to the house today?"

"Yes."

"Have you enjoyed spending the week in the castle?" Rose asked Kreah.

"Yes, they let me help with the laundry! I wanted to help cook, but I've had to go out to work at the Ministry."

Mr. Weasley said, "Rose, when you are in Hogsmeade next, I need you and Al to help with something. Will you meet us at the joke shop?"

"Yes, what do you need help with?"

Kreah began to answer, "we want to cast more defensive—"

"Shh. We will explain when we see you there." Mr. Weasley's gaze flicked to Scorpius briefly, "be careful, please, Rose."

"I'm sure I will be fine, Dad."

He hugged her and left.

"If I didn't know better, I might think your father doesn't like me." Scorpius forced a laugh.

Rose sighed. "Sorry. If I talk to him, he probably wouldn't mind having you come help us. It sounds as if they are casting more defensive shields around the joke shop and/or house. You're just as skilled at that kind of magic as Al or I."

"Thanks, but I'm planning to go to the Three Broomsticks with the Seonnays." Seeing Rose's skeptical expression and remembering the way he had lied to try to dodge Harry Potter's invitation, Scorpius added, "Really. I think they can help with my Mer gold music project." He didn't explain how he had been swayed to make the invitation to Viola.

"I see. Good."

In Transfiguration, they parted to sit by their respective house-mates, but the seat next to Scorpius remained empty.

Scorpius whispered to a couple of the other Slytherin girls, "Where's Zivian?"

"In the Hospital Wing."

"Why?"

They shrugged.

o.o.o.o

Nervous energy radiated around the Arithmancy classroom on the afternoon when the seventh years were to present their ideas for their N.E.W.T. projects. Scorpius had stayed up late several nights in a row trying to organize information on Mer instruments, the alchemy of gold, the physics of sound, and the power of emotion to repel dark creatures. At that moment, he felt sure that it was all nonsense and would never work. Fortunately, he knew how to act confident for an audience.

Professor Weasley called her N.E.W.T. students up alphabetically, which put Rose last. This was a relief for Scorpius, who wouldn't have wanted to be evaluated on his presentation _after_ Professor Weasley knew what Rose had chosen to do.

Allegri and Dippet were both planning to craft new spells—Allegri's a complex, pointless jinx to switch the outer textures of two objects, and Dippet's a bewitchment to make a quill "read" script and copy it in perfect calligraphy. Weasley gave them each a few comments and suggestions after they presented.

"Mr. Malfoy, please." Weasley announced, and Scorpius stood.

Scorpius cleared his throat. "Few witches or wizards would not agree that dementors are the most horrifying and dangerous creatures in existence. They destroy happiness wherever they go—and sometimes permanently, through their kiss. The only known way to fight them is with the Patronus charm, which many of us find difficult. I, myself, can't do it...at least I haven't yet," he amended, seeing Albus shake his head in protest. "I believe there may be an alternative way to repel dementors, and I believe it is worth trying to develop it."

The faces around the classroom looked doubtful, but intrigued.

"Lethifolds, as you know, are related to Dementors and are also repelled with the Patronus charm. There is a marine species related to lethifolds, called lethifins. Merpeople kill them using music from golden instruments. Witches and wizards have never written any eyewitness accounts of this; according to Viola Seonnay (the daughter of the Ministry's Liaison to Atlantic Merpeople) it happens deep under the ocean. It is well documented that merpeople use music to stir emotion, even above water..."

Scorpius spoke for a time about Mer instruments and referred to the folk poem about the golden fiddle. Then he talked about the conductive, powerful properties of gold, digging in to some of the alchemy that he would need to use in his project. He discussed how he would use calculeux to design the shape of the instrument and etch it with runes to make it propel music in magic form. Then he started talking about music and forgot to be nervous, letting his enthusiasm show.

"In this book, _Producing Your Protector_, Shacklebolt defines a Patronus as 'a radiant force that projects emotions without draining them from the person creating it.' That is exactly, _exactly,_ what music is as well: sound waves that radiate outward, in patterns that produce emotion in the listeners. A whole auditorium of people can soak in that emotion without draining anything from the soloist on stage. In order to work against Dementors, I hypothesize that music only needs to be put in the right magical format."

Scorpius looked around. Everyone was paying avid attention. _They're buying it_, he thought proudly.

"So, I need to analyze the physics of sound waves. I will write to my piano teacher to ask for muggle books on the subject.

"Another step I plan to take is visiting the Seonnays' home on the coast and, hopefully, communicating with some merpeople and seeing their instruments. I have ordered a velometer—I'll use it to measure the power emitted by instruments.

"I will eventually need a live creature to test on. Dementors and lethifolds are classified as untradeable for good reason, but lethi_fin_s are not classified...er...yet. I plan to purchase a lethifin, through the Seonnays, and store it safely at my home for experimentation. Since it will be water-bound, there isn't danger of it escaping its tank or doing any damage." Scorpius glanced at Professor Weasley, hoping she wouldn't consider this plan dodgy. She simply nodded.

"In conclusion, I think this is an important possibility, and by studying sound, alchemy, and arithmancy, I plan to design an instrument that will repel, or even kill, dementors above water the way merpeople kill lethifins underwater."

Scorpius waited for a response.

"Your idea is very, very interesting Mr. Malfoy. I think there is a good chance that it won't work at all, but as you say, it is worth investigating. If you don't create a working method by exam time, I think the evaluators will still respect a dedicated attempt. For the sake of the exam, focus on your calculeux. For the sake of actually accomplishing something, do try to visit the merpeople. Ask Professor Longbottom about gillyweed. And make sure that you give them credit—you are merely adapting their method, using muggle physics no less. Tell that to the witches and wizards who praise you—if it works, that is. Next up: Mr. Poe."

Scorpius sat down in a daze. It had actually gone well!

Professor Weasley approved of most of the other students' projects, except for Narayanan's, which was to simplify the grammatica and make a faster incantation for "petrificus totalus." Weasley said it had been attempted often in the past and all but proven impossible.

When Al stood in front, he took a wallet out of his pocket. Without a word he opened a fold in it, and then another fold and another, until he had unrolled a whole strip of leather that hung from above his head, to the floor. Al took hold of the middle of it, and pulled—out of thin air—a door.

"Do you know where this door leads?" He asked.

He paused, and then grinned. "Nowhere." He opened the door to show the chalkboard behind it.

"Nowhere at all, _yet_. It's relatively easy to create space within an object that is bigger than the object itself, using the Expansion Charm while stabilizing the outer container," Al said, "but I plan to test the limits of this method and calculate the biggest possible space that can be held inside a folded wallet. My estimate so far is that it can be bigger than this classroom, but perhaps not as expansive as the Great Hall."

Scorpius read between the lines—this was to be Al's new chamber of discoveries when he left Hogwarts, all packed into a wallet that could be easily carried by owl.

"I also need to lay a gravitational foundation for the space within that is independent of the motion of the wallet. The inner space will stay still, even if the door is sideways or in motion while being opened. This will require a flexible point of connection between the inside and the outside, that doesn't distort people or objects as they pass through it..."

Al drew a few diagrams on the board that probably only he, Rose, and Professor Weasley understood. The vital point was that he still had work to do to make his design functional.

"Good, Albus," Weasley said. "This sounds—"

"Oh, and I also plan to fold some extra time into it." Al said off-handedly.

"What?"

"Just a simple two-to-one ratio. If I spend two hours inside, only one hour will have passed when I come out."

Weasley looked skeptical. "How will you do that without Sand of Time?"

"I have permission from my old boss at the Department of Mysteries to brew a little of my own Sand of Time."

"I don't doubt that you could, but it takes a full year—a leap year—which you do not have before the N.E.W.T. exams."

"I have ways around that."

Weasley stared at her nephew. "I understand why Ginny worries about you. Sit down before the rest of us get dizzy. Miss Weasley, please."

At the front of the classroom, Rose looked all the way back at Scorpius and smiled before she started.

"I had a difficult time finding a project that was interesting, challenging, and meaningful. Scorpius had two projects, though, one of which he asked for help with. I am analyzing the architecture of Malfoy Manor."

The other students stirred, and turned to look at Scorpius. He nodded, and took a chance by adding, "...so that we can break the enchantment."

Professor Weasley had not turned to look at Scorpius, but had set down her quill and was looking at Rose. Scorpius couldn't see the expression on her face and he didn't want to.

Rose continued. She commented briefly on the history of the manor, mentioned some Arithmancers who had previously tried to imitate the design, and hypothesized that they must not have been able to examine all of the runes and details inside. She described the methods she planned to use to discover the full format of the enchantment.

"Once I understand the enchantment, I will design a method of breaking it, and the written design will be what I show the N.E.W.T. evaluators, before we actually change the manor. I will have to choose whether to break the enchantment subtractively—to erase key runes, or additively—to off-set it by adding to the runes or to the structure. Whatever we do will have to be either hidden, or explained to Scorpius' family as an improvement. They know very little about this enchantment, but they haven't agreed to let it be broken, so...don't discuss this with anyone outside our class please. I know all of you, and I trust that you wouldn't have any reason to spread secrets. Breaking the enchantment that brings the Malfoys wealth will not only even everyone's chances for prosperity, but will also liberate the Malfoys from living under magical manipulation."

As soon as Rose was finished speaking, Professor Weasley said, "I have several questions about your proposal, Rose, but I will talk with you after class."

Weasley took the floor in front of her class. "We have fifteen minutes before class ends, which is perfect for a bit of review. This week we have learned about the Fibonacci sequence and the golden ratio. Let's have one of you draw a spiral on the board using golden rectangles..." Her eyes settled on Scorpius and narrowed. She held a piece of chalk out, "Mr. Malfoy, will you explain it to the class?"

"Yes, Professor."

Scorpius took the chalk and hesitated, deciding how to start. He drew two small squares.

"The sides of these two squares all have a length of one," he said, and wrote, '_1,1,_' at the top of the board.

"Together they create a rectangle, with a ratio of two to one, long side to short side," he said, and wrote, '_ratio: 2'_ at the side of the board.

"Then on the long side we add a bigger square, this time with side length 2. The ratio is now three over two, or 1.5. We keep adding bigger squares, around in a spiral; the next square will have a side length of three; the next, five; the next, eight; the next, thirteen."

The list at the top of the board now read, '_1,1,2,3,5,8,13.' _Scorpius pointed to it and said, "this is the beginning of the Fibonacci Sequence.

"The ratio of the long side to the short side of the rectangle is now thirteen over eight, or..." Scorpius wrote the fraction on the board, tapped it with his wand, and the chalk numbers transformed to '_1.625_.'

"The longer we keep going, the closer the ratio will get to the golden ratio, which is 1.618...et cetera." He looked at Professor Weasley. "Should I keep going?"

"What effect does a spiral have on magical energies?" she asked him.

"It pulls them in."

"Exactly. Well done," she said firmly, "you are quite capable at Arithmancy, Mr. Malfoy. Class dismissed."

Students gathered up their things and filed out. Albus said, "I need to run downstairs. See you later."

Rose and Scorpius stood in front of Professor Weasley's desk. Her expression was controlled, but Scorpius could sense her displeasure. "As I said, Mr. Malfoy, you are a capable Arithmancy student. I see no reason why you should need help studying the architecture of your manor."

"I...I'm not very confident about doing it myself Professor. I would be grateful for Rose's help."

"Of your two projects, I would think it logical if you did the more personal one yourself."

"In that case, Professor, I should design the golden instrument. Music is more personal to me than the manor."

Weasley scowled. "Is it. So, how is Emilia doing?"

"She's doing well."

"Good. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

Scorpius left, but after walking a few yards down the corridor his curiosity got the better of him and he snuck back.

Pressing his ear to the wall next to the door, he could hear Professor Weasley's voice saying, "...dangerous, violent, and their dislike for Weasleys in particular runs deep. They might be getting old, and they haven't made any public attacks or threats for years, but walking right in to their own home would not be wise. Not under any circumstances."

"If they are not at home..."

"They could return unexpectedly. They could have set curses or ways to alert against intruders. It's an ancient, dark, proud pure-blood fortress. Scorpius may not know everything."

"We're both good at Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"That doesn't mean you ought to take unnecessary risks! You're of age, Rose, and I won't stop you from going where you choose, but I will come with you—or ask Harry to—"

"No. I don't need that...I'll have Scorpius, and...and oh! They have a house elf."

To Scorpius' surprise, Professor Weasley sounded almost pleased when she said, "Patto, of course, I suppose that's a little better, then."

"You know him?" Rose asked.

"He was the first elf to take advantage of the House Elf Voluntary Liberation Act. He came to the Ministry, and we compelled the Yaxley family to free him. I discouraged him from accepting work with the Malfoys, but he said that he liked their house. Aside from Dobby himself, Patto was the most independently-minded elf I've met."

"Well, he will be there. So you won't mind me going, right?"

"I will certainly still worry. Maybe you could borrow the invisibility cloak."

"I'll be fine, Mum, and I would rather not tell Uncle Harry and everyone...they'll try to stop me."

"Naturally. Your safety while visiting Malfoy Manor is not my only concern, though. Rose, why do you care so much about it?"

"It's a fascinating puzzle. Also, the enchantment is not fair to the Malfoys or to everyone else," Rose answered.

"Hmm," Her mother said, "Scorpius Malfoy seems _much_ nicer than his parents."

"He tries."

"And yet, I am still not one hundred percent sure that I approve of him. You will be spending a great deal of time with him if you take on this project."

"As a collaborator on the project, and as a friend, he's trustworthy. He wants my help breaking the enchantment, and his reasons truly are good. He...He's always been clever, and recently he has acted more mature and even surprisingly kind sometimes. He and I respect each other enough to work together on this."

There was a long pause, and Rose spoke again, "It wouldn't be right to turn him down just because he's a Malfoy, would it?"

"I know I encouraged you to be kind to him when you came to Hogwarts, but marriage is more serious than being accepting and friendly. As much as I think he deserves a fair chance, I do not like the thought of sharing my grandchildren with the Malfoys."

"Marriage? Grandchildren?" Rose protested. "I'm not thinking about marriage. We're just discussing my project: the architecture of Malfoy Manor. Not..."

"The boy you spend all your time with with might become the man you marry, and then you will have to live with his flaws...and his family... Of course, love and loyalty are beautiful things, but—"

"Mum," Rose interrupted, "I am not in love with Scorpius and I am not going to be. I promise, we will just be doing Arithmancy."

Scorpius quietly retreated.

o.o.o.o

The grey-suited goblin gave Rose a stiff little bow, which she returned. It nodded to Albus and Scorpius, and Scorpius followed Rose's example by returning the gesture.

Rose said, "Good afternoon, Lendgane. Thank you for coming."

"I had business in Hogsmeade, so it wasn't a major inconvenience," responded Lendgane grudgingly. He looked at his pocket-watch. "Are all of your young friends going to be late?"

"I hope not," she answered.

December had brought with it cold weather, Christmas decorations, a break from Quidditch, and another of Professor Weasley's life skills classes for Emilia. This time it was on personal finance, and Rose had invited one of her goblin acquaintances to teach it.

During the next fifteen minutes students filed into the room, and then Professor Weasley began.

"Welcome. We have an excellent opportunity to learn from a guest today, Lendgane, who works with the curse-breakers for Gringotts. Managing your money is an essential skill, and he has—"

She was interrupted by Lendgane, who pointed his long finger back at a couple of Hufflepuffs. "What are you whispering, you there? Tell us."

Alberta Peasgood's eyes went wide. "Oh nothing, sir goblin...um...just, we were wondering why money is so important. They say, 'the love of money is the root of all evil,' and nobody can take it with them when they die..."

Lendgane glared.

Professor Weasley cleared her throat. "May I?" After Lendgane nodded, she said, "We may not take money with us into death, but what _do_ we take with us? It is hard to know, but ghosts have themselves, that is, their character and their knowledge. I believe we can also continue good relationships when we move On. Money management is a key to developing character and working in relationships. Organization, self-discipline, foresight, generosity, cooperation, industry, reliability, are just some of many qualities we can build in ourselves through finance. So, give Lendgane your attention please."

Scorpius was struck. He had expected this to be a boring lesson, not a philosophical eye-opener. He had thought of money simply as a tool for getting things, for taking advantage of people or for helping people, but had never considered it a means of defining his own character.

The goblin stepped forward. "We goblins don't think the love of money is evil," he said with a slight sneer, "and we can practically measure the wisdom of a human by the history of their Gringotts vault. We have an old saying: 'A wizard who governs his finances is as wise as a goblin. A wizard who is governed by his finances is as uncivilized as a centaur and as enslaved as an elf.' That applies to rich and humble alike," he said, and his sneer seemed to rest on Scorpius for a moment.

Behind them, Roxanne Weasley snorted. "Uncivilized?" she whispered to Hugo.

The lesson continued, and although Lendgane acted condescending, his advice was helpful.

o.o.o.o

As the snow deepened around the Hogwarts grounds, Scorpius studied and took exams. As Emilia and her friends caroled all around the Slytherin Dungeon, Scorpius began reading the books from his piano teacher that Antares had collected from the muggle post. As icicles formed outside the windows, he showed Rose pictures of Malfoy Manor that his mother had taken, and everyone looked forward to one more Hogsmeade trip before the Christmas holiday.


End file.
